


Melting Ice Queen

by LOGO_Comics, SilentMagi



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-11-04 05:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 29,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LOGO_Comics/pseuds/LOGO_Comics, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentMagi/pseuds/SilentMagi
Summary: LOGO_Comics and I are writing a new story trading updates every week.In the realms of the harsh frozen north, there is little to thaw the heart of one frozen by the sealing of their emotions, but one small ray of sunshine may be enough to bring about the spring.





	1. Chapter 1

The chill arctic wind blew outside the audience chamber hall where long, slender fingers casually poured out wine into a goblet, icy blue eyes watching the crimson red liquid cascade into the silver goblet. “I must admit that you are a bold one, my fair maid,” a honeyed voice drifted out laced with more chill than the air at midnight. “But you dared to view me in my private chambers without my permission.”

Turning her eyes away from the wine, she carefully set the bottle down next to the tray and regarded the maid who was kneeling before her throne with a dark glower to her expression. Her hand flexed, and the stopper was returned to the bottle with nary a whisper of noise. “To think, I took you off of the streets, gave you a job, everything, and you throw it back in my face by violating my trust and breaking one of the few rules I laid out for you.”

The maid remained knelt before her, hands placidly on the servant woman’s lap. Her eyes were fixed on a spot a pace in front of the throne, not daring to try and so much as look at the queen at the moment. Her mind thought back to the days she was on the streets, barely scavenging a living on the edges of society, only for the Queen to pause in passing her on the street while she was struggling to hold a rat in her hands, having stumbled out onto the street before her entourage.

She had been a filthy bundle of twigs in tattered rags, with knotty scarlet red hair swirling around her face, tanned-calloused skin scuffed from her fall, and nut brown eyes staring up in dawning horror at the pale, frosty woman giving her a calculating gaze as guards appeared at her side reaching for their weapons. A shift of the queen’s hand stalled them, and lifted the girl off the street and left her hanging in the air with her feet barely inches off the ground. She had seen something and settled the terrified girl into the carriage beside her. And that was that, the rat was now somewhere in the castle as a pet.

The maid had served her faithfully for years, growing into a beautiful young woman very much the queen’s opposite. The queen could have been the depths of midwinter, and the girl was the height of a summer’s day.

“Do you have anything to say my dear maid?” the queen asked softly, leaning forward in her throne as she reached out with her right hand, a spiderweb of black pulsing as a force caused the maid’s head to rise slowly and lock eyes with the queen.

“I make no excuse for my actions My Queen, I acted rashly an-” she started, only to cut off as the queen pulled and orb out of the side of her throne. Small, perfectly clear, and smooth; the mere sight of it caused a surge of terror to clench the maid’s heart as the queen casually held it before her eyes.

“Yes, you did act foolishly, and the laws of the land are clear as to what is to happen now My Dear Maid,” she stated cooly as she lifted the orb into the air between them, letting it turn and bob there for a moment, suspended between them. “You knew this going in. Tell me, why?”

“I-I harbor f-feelings for you My Queen, and it caused me to overstep my position,” she answered with a terrified tremble in her voice, remaining still as the halls of these very orbs that she cleaned played out in her mind. Men and women in various poses of fear, anger, and many other emotions. Some running, some attempting a foolish final attack, some pleading, but all of them trapped. Trapped and imprisoned, on display for any that enter the castle. The release of her chin didn’t move the maid’s head at all, her eyes locked on the orb.

The queen released her chin, the honesty of the servants words touching something inside of her as she studied her once again. She was not much younger than the queen herself was, but she was innocent and undarkened by the cruel northern chill. Shaking herself free of the surprise, she took a deep draw of the wine, stalling to regain her control. “Be that as it may be My De- Amber,” she stated, getting a soft gasp of surprise that the queen would address her so informally. “It is time in the orb for you. Now… what time should we serve for this betrayal of my trust? A week? A year? Or perhaps, I should seal you inside and leave you as beautiful as you are right now.”

The look on the maid’s face, the flash of despair and fear that she loved to see in those in the orbs was perfect, just as the crystal flashed and the maid was gone. Holding out her hand, she smiled eagerly as she drew the orb closer and turned it so she could see the look of fear and terror, maybe she’d have hopelessness and despair, or it has been so long since she’d seen that.

As the light in the orb settled, she found something that made her eyes dilate and a frown of confusion to pull at her lips. Instead of the look of fear and despair, she found something she’d never seen before. It was instead a look of acceptance and a small warm smile that promised forgiveness when next they talked. The eyes though were what would haunt her.

They were locked squarely forward, soft and tender, full of love.

Swallowing the surge of emotion that swelled at the sight, she forced herself to look away, casting the orb across the room in a wave of magic, settling on a pedestal she had prepared just for this punishment. A surge of pain ripped up her right arm, reminding her of the cost of ruling these hostile lands took on her body daily.

Lifting up her right hand, she studied the black tendrils staining her skin with the proof of her power and ability to lead. Once, she might have feared the darkness slowly creeping up her body with each use of her powers, but after seeing the fear and respect her abilities granted her, she accepted it, embraced it as her right in this forsaken northern lands, and built her kingdom. Where other kingdoms had towering structures imposing their will on the lush lands, or deep dungeons to hold their unwanted elements. She had a squat little fort of stone, lined with fur and pitch to keep out the chill wind, and ornaments of crystal orbs what little light there was during the day. In the evening, the orbs would give off a magic glow of their own to light the halls.

Some of the orbs would be cycled out, the prisoners sent to work the mines, or serve on the Northern Patrols to keep the worst of the creatures found in the wastes beyond the borders at bay.

She ruled these lands, her blackened hand clawing out the survival of her kingdom with each day. She had to be strong, she had to protect what was hers. She had to stop all that would oppose her.

Sparing the orb, positioned so it would have an uninterrupted view of her for the day, a glance, she smiled to herself and reclaimed her throne. A sip of wine to calm her nerves, and she heard it. The steady clanging of armor approaching, and she knew it was time to once again defend her lands.

Looking up, she was hardly surprised to see a plate mail clad oaf of a man appear, his subtle gleam even in the mid-day sun identifying him as a Paladin, even if the banner of the cornucopia on his chest plate wasn’t enough of a clue. “Pardon the intrusion your highness,” the haughty, arrogant night mocked as he gave her a bow for formality’s sake, “But the Goddess of Plenty wishes for me to express her displeasure with you, personally.”

“May I know your name, foolish Paladin?”

“My name is for my Goddess alone, but you may know me as Sir Honor,” he stated with a smirk to his lips as he met her gaze. “Queen Miranda, you are to be tried for cruelty and tyranny. How do you plea?”

The queen raised an eyebrow at that, standing from her throne and giving the knight her full attention. “I do not recognize your authority in my castle, begone.”

“If it is to be that way, so be it,” he stated, drawing a mace from his hip, and slinging his shield in front of him. “I will let the Lady of Plenty judge your actions when I bring you before her.”


	2. Chapter 2

A spear of black ice should have slain him then and there, but it seemed that, unlike those who came before, he apparently knew how to use his shield and did not simply focus on his skill with his weapon. It was no matter. He would fall like the rest.

She attacked the ground, next, aiming to make it sleek beneath his boots, only for him to suddenly toss the mace at the ground beneath him, the ram’s head that topped the blessed item shattering the enchantment at his feet before bouncing back up to his hand, which promptly caught it. An orb would have been useful, but those took time to ready for the spell, and she had used the last one on…

No matter. Other things could be used in their stead.

She raised her hand and a suit of armor, a figure of ice and steel enchanted to handle minor threats like this, appeared and began to attack, the sword singing through the air as the Paladin leapt back to avoid the sword.

He was a quick fellow, and his seemed to have fallen silent, as he were not capable of speech at all. Still, she had dealt with his kind before and was unconcerned. It was always the same. They would challenge her, and they would fall.

He circled the armor never staying in the same spot for long as it turned to match him each ime.

It swung. He dodged.

He was on the defensive. It moved rather quickly with the blade, despite the great size of the thing, but he was able to just barely dodge whenever it struck. The display grew boring, however, so she summoned three more of the armors, intent on boxing him in.

He was surrounded. This would make things simpler. If he wasn’t able to use more space, he wouldn’t be able to dodge as effectively. Indeed, his dodges were becoming much less effective, and he was growing more and more boxed in as the armors moved closer and closer. His shield was once again finding use as he blocked blows that came from behind him as best he could while his mace spun in different directions as he carefully worked to keep his guard up, barely dodging and blocking desperately.

Then, he suddenly slammed his mace upon the wrist of one of the armors, connecting the blow with a flash of burning light, the gauntlets and sword plummeting lifelessly to the ground.

And with that, he gave a slight smirk before, with a concentrated effort, he managed to similarly strike the armor’s kneed a similar blow, once. Twice. Three times.

It fell forward, only for the ram’s head to slam into the faceplate, knocking the helm into the air as the enchantments bled out of the armor. As it soared through the air, he leaped back from the other armors, twirling the mace with a flourish before batting the helm towards another armor as if it were practically weightless. When the helm connected, the armor in question was launched back as yet another rushed him as he shifted his grip so that the head was resting just above his hand.

For its efforts, the armor was rewarded by him swinging his arm forward, the top of the metal ram’s head slamming into the chest of the armor as the shaft slid through his hand. Were it a person, they would either be breathless or simply dead from the force exerted by the mace. Instead, the armor continued with a deep impression of the ram’s head where the sternum would have been on a human.  The Paladin, meanwhile, adjusted his stance now that the grip of the mace was in his hand, swinging the mace upward with a practiced ease as it struck the lunging arm of a suit of armor, knocking the blade out of its hand, only for a new one to form in its hand at a gesture from her.

She ignored the mild burning of the darkness creeping up higher along her arm as the fight continued.

He weaved through the armors, regaining the advantage of mobility as he made his mace dance through the air, bouncing against steel and ice as he shifted his grip repeatedly, the position of the ram’s head shifting from place to place with each strike. Each turn was a block, each time he turned his back upon them was either evaded or directed towards the shield upon his back as he continued to block the attacks.

And then, a hit. A singular slash above his eyes with one sword drew blood, a blow designed to blind him for the rest of the fight.

He surprised her with his next trick.

Shutting his eyes, he leapt back and lightly pressed one of the horns of the ram to the cut, causing the wound to vanish in a flash of light. As the one with the damage from the mace upon its chest moved towards him to capitalize on the sudden drop of his guard, he suddenly threw the mace in an overhand attack, striking it upon the shoulder, removing the arm even as it rebounded back towards his hand from the force of the attack. It was as if the mace was simply a piece of his soul with how it matched his motions.

He caught it, spinning to match the momentum of the weapon, building up more force even as the other armors advanced again. One slashed at his head, only for him to abruptly drop down and slam the ram’s head into the knee of the armor, sending the armor crashing to the ground.

He leapt back and swung the mace in an arc, striking the one-armed armor in the helm in a masterful throw as he danced away from another strike from the remaining armor, into the path of the mace once more. As the armor approached him, the queen readied for his next move, forging a blade of ice and shadows even as he fought the armor.

As he slipped past its lunging arm, he shifted his grip to higher up the shaft, raising his arm over the opposite shoulder, and slammed the helm off of the armor, causing it to slowly fall to the ground.

He immediately found himself having to raise his mace again, his hand moving towards the actual grip as he slammed the top of the ram’s head into the tip of a lance made of dark magic and ice, shattering it and forcing the shadows to recede. He charged the queen with his mace, blocking the various spears and barbs she threw with her magic as the darkness slowly but surely trailed higher up her arm. When he had closed the distance between the two of them, his mace was blocked by a short sword of the same fell magic as everything else.

He was quick and he was a skilled mobile fighter, but her magic and her skill with a sword was impossible to understate. She forced him back, dominating the fight as ever swing of the mace was stopped, every feint disregarded, every attempt at lunging blocked by her blade. He was unable to reach for his shield as he helplessly shielded himself from her quick, powerful blows with his mace. The light of the orbs illuminated his desperate bid to succeed, to fulfill his oath to his goddess, but she would not let him.

This was her kingdom. This was her land to guard as she saw fit. She would not be stopped by a Paladin that couldn’t understand what she was doing, why she was so cold and harsh and unrelenting.

But she made a mistake. In moving him around the hall as she battered at his defenses, she had unintentionally led him to one orb in particular. Her eyes unconsciously met frozen eyes full of love and she stilled as if she were the one frozen. How could a figure transformed in such a way still display such warmth?

She remembered herself and where she was too late.

“May the Lady of Plenty be just in her judgement and guide you to the light,” she heard, a heavenly glow on the other horn of the ram’s head as her sword shattered and the shadows of it dissipated, “Begone, shadows.” The horn touched her arm and burned like thousands upon thousands of flames, as if the sun, itself were pressing against her arm. When the light dissipated, the darkness remained, but the blessing rang true. Slowly, the lights of the orbs began to fade as she felt her magic fading. She tried to end the spell on Amber’s orb, but the magic was leaving too quickly for her to focus it quickly enough. She reached out and desperately tried to channel what magic she had left into the orb, but all that remained was a flickering light that she knew would not last forever. The hall was dark and the wind began to howl outside of the castle.

“What trickery is this?” Sir Honor demanded in horror, his arrogant facade slipping from his face as he looked at all of the silent, lifeless globes, “I was told by the Priest that they would be freed from this state!”

“Magic comes at a price, Sir Honor,” she replied sharply, holding Amber’s faintly shining orb close to herself, as if to protect the light within, “Even my magic came with a price and a contract. Pray to your goddess for a miracle. The dark is cold and the dark is hungry. And the dark is coming closer.”


	3. Chapter 3

The dark did indeed come, with the setting of the sun, winter claimed the lands. In her private chambers, with only a simple fire for warmth, The fallen queen stared into the orb that held the only warmth she even felt. The spider web of corruption claiming her arm was burning with an icy cold fire that she kept far from the orb holding Amber. “I will free you Amber, this I swear to you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to still the rage that was spreading through her at the idiot currently setting himself up in the guest chambers three doors down.

Apparently the southern priests were still miffed about her wresting control away from their puppets, and actually doing good work with the lands and people of the frozen wastes. They wanted the riches of the mines, but didn’t want to put forth the work to do so honestly. The mines were not easy, and the creatures of the ice would hunt down the sources of heat they found wandering the wastes.

“How do I do this with my powers cut off? I have to fix this before the long dark,” she whispered to the orb, her tears being fought back by sheer habit alone. She would not cry, she could not show weakness.

Yet, Amber knew of her weaknesses.

“She is not the only one my child,” a voice ghosted in her ear, causing her eyes to snap open, and she whipped her head towards the fire, where she swore the voice was coming from. Instead she found the flames frozen in place, the rest of the world similarly held in place by something that caused her heart to race.

That was when she realized she was not alone, slowly her head turned towards the only other chair in the room, opposite her by the fire. In it was something hard to describe. The blackness of the darkest night, pierced with millions of stars, and shimmering with the Frozen Lights of the North. The mask where the head rested was watching her with a curious expression, that switched to a motherly smile as the hand passed over it. “Hello my child, you do not know my name, but I have sought you for a while.”

Sinking into her seat, she watched as the being that had invaded her sanctum reached out, and with a flick of her hand summoned forth an orb. The sudden emptiness in her hand terrified the queen, and she almost leapt to snatch it back. But a wave of spectral darkness over the face showed off a caring, curious expression while something stalled her. “Most curious little trick you have here, a trickle of magic from yourself to freeze another in this little viewport of another dimension. They never know hunger, nor pain, nor anything but their own thoughts.”

The childlike expression tipped, and a skeletal hand of star coated darkness rested on the moonlit mask the thumb brushing over the painted lips to turn it into a neutral expression of curiosity, with a hint of mischief. “She is aware of us, is she not? Is that why you talk to her?”

“I do not intend for her to be driven mad by a punishment unjustly extended,” Miranda answered quietly, breaking her stare at the being of unfathomable power across from her. But then she found the orb in her hand, and the curious face focused on her from below. Drawing closer.

“You tell yourself that is the only reason, and thus lie to more than just me,” the voice stated in the same haunting neutral tone that lingered without accusation or malice, but of pure observation.

Flailing back, she tried to draw on her magic to protect her, her arm coated in black webbing thrusting forward without any power behind it, while the orb was clutched to her chest protectively.

The figure just stared at the hand from multiple angles at once, before the mask reformed itself beside it, a look of disgust and pity painted plain as the full moon on a sunless month. “You have fallen from the powers I grant, into those of corruption and malice,” the voice continued to whisper, the starry form pulling back from the arm. “Name the contract, and I will aide you in building your magic anew. Break the contract with the powers purified, and you will have the power to free young Amber there. Fall to darkness, and you will not even care that she will fall with you.”

“I walked with the shadow-weaver, Shelloth,” Miranda stated without a moment’s hesitation. She had always needed the power to save the people of the North from the Southern fools that would destroy it for their own gains. But… if the North was just wastes, and the riches buried in the unfreezing seas, or deep under the earth, then why did she insist on protecting it?

“You bear the mark of my sister, a loathsome burden for any to bear,” the voice stated as the hand reached up to the mask, bone thin fingers of darkness tracing along where the chin would be in though. “I will aide you, rightful queen of these lands, but it will not be my doing that earns you the powers you seek. You wish to guide those that would be exploited by those that think they know more. I grant you two powers, cantrips that even the most simple of my followers practice. Give me the hand untainted.”

Looking at the orb with Amber, she almost swore that the still form was nodding to her in encouragement, but she knew that she was frozen in that land physically, so it had to be a trick of her mind. But as she moved to set the orb in the pedestal, she instead found it bound by a chain to her neck. “Ah, but you shall not be separated from your Sun. No, you need her more than my blessing. Bear her burden as your own, and let her guide you when you are lost my child.”

She looked up to the the mask watching her with a solemn expression of nothing, the lips were gone, the eyes black openings in the whiteness. “Your hand my child? If you wish for my blessing.”

Miranda, took a moment to rest the orb containing Amber to her chest, here eyes focused on the vortex of distant stars swirling mere inches away. Taking a deep breath, she extended her left hand, the one not tainted by the dark web and placed it lightly on the surprisingly warm darkness.

Smiling a little, she closed her eyes and bowed her head in acceptance. “I will protect the North in your name.”

“Then know me, my champion,” the voice whispered in her ear as she opened her eyes, to find the fire crackling and the rest of the world returning to life. Looking at her left arm, she didn’t see anything, until she found a tiny snowflake on her pointer and middle fingers. Instinctually, she felt the knowledge that one allowed her to lift things with magic, while the other was a light spell.

“Me? A champion? Oh Lady of Magic, you have the roughest stone to polish into a gem, don’t you?” she mused, looking over the marks silently almost feeling the brush of cool confidence in the back of her mind.

Shaking her head, she touched it to the orb still hung about her neck, smiling slightly in thought. “Let you be my guide, hmm? Tell me Amber? What is the first step in this quest we are to take? I feel I must leave the castle, but the cold dark is just beginning. We must wait until the sun returns in a week at the least. Can you bear this torment for so long?”

The lack of response from the Orb was what she expected, and yet she felt… peace. A hint of acceptance, and hope. Perhaps it was time to trust in the Goddess that had chosen to save her.

She was NOT going to tell the Paladin.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a grinding sound echoing through the halls three candles later. Sighing tiredly, she made her way to the source, only to see Sir Honor sharpening a hatchet.

“What do you think you are doing?” she asked.

“My vows are to aid and protect the innocent,” he replied, “I shall be gathering firewood for your people. You said that the cold and dark is coming, and that is my fault. I want to help.”

“There is enough wood and food in the Mead Hall to last through the worst parts of the storm,” she noted dryly, “We are by no means ignorant to the dangers of winter. You wish to offer aid? Keep your mace at the ready. The dark is cold and the dark is hungry. And the dark is coming closer. Those are not mere words. There are teeth and claws and hungry eyes always watching while your priests reaped the benefits of our labor in the comfort of their distant, sun-kissed towers.”

“So I have gathered,” he noted bitterly, placing the hatchet upon a nearby table, “They have abandoned the Way of Our Lady, and by listening to their orders, I have committed a slight against Her and against you and your people. My mace is at your command until I have set things to rights. The scales must be balanced, even if it costs me my life.”

“What are you on about?” she asked flatly.

“I’ve no doubt that you wish to free the one who still lives from the orb you wear even now, and through whatever means you accomplish that, it might be able to save those still trapped within these other orbs. Whatever your plan is, I will aid you in your endeavor.”

“You are bold to assume that I would allow you to aid me if I have a plan at all,” she stated, “Considering that you are the reason we are in this predicament. I would be within my rights to have you killed.”

“And my body would be able to be used to cause plants to grow, creating more food or fuel,” he replied, “My life is meant solely for the aid of others. If any single thing that I do can in any way end the suffering of others and bring them joy, then I am sworn to do it. I will sacrifice everything to help others.”

“A noble sentiment from the Southerner who damned my kingdom for corrupt priests.”

“Firstly, I am from the Eastern Kingdom, not the Southern Kingdom, but yes, I was trained in the Southern Kingdom,” he replied, “And, as I said, I had not realized that the priests had lost their way. My actions were the result of being told half-truths and were not done to damn anyone.”

“You can argue intent all you want,” she replied, “The fact of the matter is that you have endangered my people. Or do you disagree?”

“I do not,” he confessed, “But I still wish to help.”

“I’m sure that you do,” she said, “I assume you tried to use your mace to wake those within the orbs.”

“I did,” he confessed, “But the Light of the Lady of Plenty cannot undo this.”

There was a light singing to be heard in the air, distant, but unmistakable, like a lullaby that was half-remembered, sung in a child’s voice.

“There’s a child out there!” Sir Honor shouted in horror.

“No, there is not,” she replied, “Did the priests teach you to be an unthinking tool or do you just excel at that on your own?”

“If it’s not a child, then what is it?” he pressed.

“A frost wight,” she replied, “Without protection, when the cold comes in, it is brought by dark, hungry spirits. The most insidious ones speak with the voices of victims past. Children are their particular favorites.”

“To mimic?” he asked.

“To take.”

And the half-remembered lullaby continued.

“If you wish to freeze out there for the voice of a child that died long ago, be my guest,” she replied with an uncaring wave of her hand, “It would spare me from more of your sanctimonious prattling.”

“Can the frost wights be chased off?” he pressed.

“By the dark and the cold, or by cold light,” she replied, “They covet warmth above all else. Unfortunately, your goddess does not provide that, does she? Her light only burns.”

“Then what is to be done?” he asked.

“We wait,” she replied, “They can only stay for so long without invitation. When the voice fades away, the frost wight will have left.”

“Why?”

“They do not belong,” she answered, as if speaking to a child, “And they are barred entrance where they are unwelcome.”

“What shall be done, then?” he asked.

“We wait,” she repeated, “We wait for the sun to return. From there, I would suggest you return to your people in the south, or east, or wherever they will tolerate you. You have done damage to the peace of my kingdom in the name of what you thought to be justice. I would hate to have you do more damage.”

“It was no true peace,” he argued, “No peace is true when it is built upon the words of Shelloth. I know whose webs those are that mar your arm. Her gifts inevitably corrupt and twist the soul to suit her desires.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, “But I was trying to protect my people. The priests in those Holy Towers only sought to bleed us dry until we and the mines were nothing but dried up husks. Ready yourself for a long ride, Paladin. Go back to your masters when the sun has returned. I have no more need of you than a corpse has need of a sword.”


	5. Chapter 5

_ She is not yours. _

The voice haunted the edges of the fires, drawing a deep sigh of disappointment from the Queen, her eyes turning towards the door slowly creaking open to allow the darkness of the hall outside in. She knew that the frost wights would be kept out by her lack of invitation to them, but there was always something else.

Things in the dark that drove even the wights into flight.

_ She is not yours. _

Things that knew the secrets in the dark of the heart. “I know that she is not, but I will serve her,” she countered to the darkness, her eyes focusing on creeping dark tendrils trying to encroach on the fire’s light and warmth. There was a slow draw of light into the darkness and she could feel the creeping chill of the night outside clawing at her body.

The silence that echoed proved that the legends of old were right. Facing the darkness with the light of truth would prevent it from holding power over you. Though there was an appeal to being nothing but a statue of ice come morning, she knew that she had to save Amber.

_ She makes you soft. _

The voices were echoes of her own mind hissing back at her from the darkness. She listened, only because she knew that to ignore it would be to invite her own doom. But this thing in the darkness was nothing to her own mind, as she had torn herself up over this long before the darkness rolled in.

But still, to voice it was another thing that she felt burning her lips even as they words slipped past. “In softness one can find strength, in facing the unknown, one learns.”

_ You know what it is. _

And there, plain as the first rays of the sun upon the ice fields to the east was how she knew that the voice did not see inside her as deeply as it would pretend. If she knew what it was, she would have known how to face it.

Instead she looked down at her left hand, feeling an impulse to extend it. One of the snowflakes was twinkling faintly in the dim light on her middle finger. Turning it around, she smiled as she summoned power into the finger, and a burst of light spread out over the area. The cold light, borne of the essence of seeing, summoned forth from the ether, exposed the beast to her eyes. The creature, pathetically small with whip thin cord of sinew and muscles stretching in as many directions as possible, let out a baleful cry as it froze in place and began smoking and shrinking in on itself.

“I see you now for what you are,” she stated coldly as she glared through the light to take in the creature. Once it might have been a rat, or some other creature of similar nature, but it was twisted and corrupted into this… thing. This insult to nature.

The light pinned it to the place, causing it to lock eyes with her. Its echoing voice speaking into her mind despite the lack of movement of its mouth.

_ You will fail. Her will shall bind you still. _

A pulse of anger flared into the light, causing the creature to shriek out in pain again. “If she thinks she can hold me, then she does not know me,” she stated with ice in her voice. She didn’t know who this ‘she’ was that the creature talks about, but she didn’t care. She would take on the gods themselves if it would serve her people. “You can tell her that I will not take the knee to her minions.”

And with another pulse of her cold rage, the creature was dispersed into tendrils of smoke that blew away into nothing. She slumped back against the fireplace, breathing heavily as she marveled at the strain this magic had taken on her. She had never felt this before.

Then a thought came to her, and she moved.

The light lingered on her finger, driving away the dark of the hall as she sought out the guest chamber that Sir Honor had taken for his own. Seeing the frost on the doorframe, she felt her heart still as she saw that the door itself was open.

Seeing the frost entering the room, she found what she dreaded inside. There, with his mace raised as if to strike, was Sir Honor. The lack of magic sustaining him meant that he was already melting, and she knew that there was no coming back. She would let him thaw and then send him south with a note explaining what was going on.

Probably might as well send a declaration of war while she was at it, since those southern priests will just use this attack as proof of her weakness, or try to play it off as her doing it.

How wonderful it was to be the queen that was denying them their big, fat paycheck. “For what it’s worth, I did not wish this on you.”

Truth be told, she did not wish this even on the worst of her enemies, and this idiot wasn’t even remotely close to that. Reaching out, she put her hand on his cheek and sighed, shaking her head. “I should have guarded you better, no matter how much you irked me paladin.”

Turning away, she went back into the hall, leaving the paladin to thaw out enough so she could load him onto a cart to send south. Never noticing a tiny snowflake of light remaining on his cheek where her hand had touched. She didn’t notice that the lights were remaining in the hall with her passing, her focus was on preparing for for her mission to come.

Her destination was the armory.

Making her way through the empty halls, she got to the room that she had left her weapons and armor in. She would have to check in with the guards that should have kept the Paladin out of the halls, see why they had abandoned her, and possibly bury them, but for now she wanted to get her old axe and chain shirt out of storage.

Pulling out the box holding her equipment, she lifted up the shirt of metal rings that gleamed in the light she cast, and smiled fondly as she ran it over her fingers. It had served her well in the past, and she would have to dig out a fur cloak to keep some of the chill out. But it was the other item in the box that she needed now. Pulling out the notched axe, she ran a thumb over its edge and smiled in satisfaction.

It was sharp and she’d need to be as well to survive her coming tasks.


	6. Chapter 6

The sole remaining member of the guard in the fortress stood at her post outside of the throne room, her sword seeming to be tied to her hand with a woolen sash while the other hand held a buckler in a thick-gloved hand. She was not shivering, but it was clear that she was cold. The Queen suspected that the wrapped hand was at least somewhat damaged by the frost, but she had no way of being sure.

The guard’s grey eyes, however, were locked upon the orb attached to her by the chain of the amulet.

“You really did it…” she whispered in the shocked tone of one who would have thought anything except for what was before them was possible, “The captain said you were going to do it, but I hadn’t believed you’d actually…” She froze realizing what she was saying and to whom she was saying it, “Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace. ‘Twas idle thinking. You’ve need of me, Your Grace?”

“Am I to assume that you are the only guard on the premises?” she asked.

“I think they might be on patrol around the perimeter, Your Grace,” she offered weakly.

“Guardswoman, as your Queen, I order you to be honest with me. Did the others leave because of this?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered softly, clearly not wanting to answer, “The captain of the guards told how you intended to… do that. That you’d orb your favorite was too much for the others. I didn’t think you’d do it and… At any rate, after that, I was guarding the throne room on my own when the paladin arrived. I tried to stop him, but… I can’t recall, but I woke by what I thought was a small fire and shut the entrance when I heard the wightsong. Meanwhile, the fire, it turned out, wasn’t a fire after all, Your Grace.” She set her buckler down and pulled out a sheathed dagger off of her belt, “It was this.”

The Queen watched in fascination as the guard one-handedly unlatched the sheath and withdrew a plain dagger. Indeed, the only things that stood out for the dagger were its pommel, a meticulously-crafted ram’s head, and the crossguard, which looked like two small cornucopias attached to the hilt with the curves facing the blade.

That, and the low-level heat emanating from it. The Queen had no doubt as to where it came from.

“It was blazing hotter and brighter than wight bait beforehand, kept things from getting too dark when the castle went to the dark and cold,” she noted, “Didn’t die down until the dark and cold in the walls vanished, yet nothing came towards me while I was beside it.” She paused, “Will the maid be in the orb for long, Your Grace?”

“Once the sun has returned, I will set things to right,” she answered, “That is all you need to know for the time being, Guardswoman.”

“Understood, Your Grace,” she replied quickly, “Forgive me for overstepping, Your Grace.”

“Be at ease,” she commanded, “Neither you nor the other guards will be punished in this instance. But the dagger did not give off heat from your sheath. How is that so?”

“It was my grandmother’s sheath from when she was an adventurer, traveling in the Dark North, back in the days of the False Kings,” she replied, “She designed it to keep it from sending heat outward, so as to keep her blade from freezing. Never figured out how she did that with the sheath. You’d figure that it’d be heavy, but no. Though I wish I knew where the real knife was. Gran said that it was good for climbing… Your Grace.”

The Queen felt a strange sensation, a mix of hope and something she couldn’t quite name, but let her knew what it was that Amber would have suggested, had she the use of her voice. She examined the guard standing before her shrewdly a the girl slid the dagger into the sheath, “What manner of training do you have?”

“Standardized guard training, Your Grace,” she replied, “Weapons training, with my focus being upon sword and buckler, evasion, and archery. From Gran, I learned survivalist techniques: how to best hide warmth, how to hunt, and building temporary shelter, and how to throw a knife.”

“So you would not be a liability,” she murmured, “Have you any who rely upon you for their own well-being? Any to whom your absence for an indeterminate length of time would be a detriment?”

“N-no, Your Grace,” she confessed nervously, “I’d been living on my own since Gran passed on, up until I was assigned a bed in the barracks.…”

“I suppose she could prove useful, Amber,” the Queen whispered to Amber, who felt pleased with this turn of events. “Guardswoman, tell me your…” She paused in thought “Tell me a name to call you.”

“Some call me Silver for my eyes, Your Grace.” she offered, “If that pleases you.”

“It will suffice,” she replied, “Guardswoman Silver, you shall accompany me when the sun has risen. In one week’s time, we shall be departing for the Illuminated Peak of the Dark North.”

“The Illuminated Peak?!” Silver asked in horror, only to quickly recover and, in a blatantly forced calm, ask, “The Illuminated Peak, Your Grace? The mountain upon which the Coldest Light is to be found? The mountain upon whose summit is said to reside the remains and Great Library of the Ancient Sage, herself? The mountain whose base is littered with the corpses of wights and humans, and others? That Illuminated Peak, Your Grace?”

“Yes. We’ve need of a tome of the Ancient Sage’s collection,” she said, “If the knowledge I seek is anywhere, it shall be there.”

“That is beyond the reach of even the Patrols, Your Grace,” Silver said carefully.

“I am aware,” she said, “I had grown up in the settlement that had been out in the Dark, before I left to rid the land of the False Kings from the South. We will be fine, so long as we are prepared for hardship. Be ready for all manners of dangers that come from the dark. The dark is cold and the dark is hungry….”

“And the dark comes ever closer,” Silver completed grimly.


	7. Chapter 7

The Queen listened to the silence of the halls of the castle, and watched the lingering light from where she had passed. Her eyes scanning as she watched the wrights test the borders a few times, only to shrink back with cries of pain. Searching the dark, she felt her right arm burning with barely controlled rage.

The darkness was coming, and she had to protect others. Turning away from the window, she walked aimlessly through the castle halls, barely noticing the chill drifting through the clear light. “The darkness is lingering, we need to do something about this…” she mused to herself as her footsteps echoed the empty halls.

Getting to the kitchens, she found Silver eating a late meal. Dipping her head in greetings, she waved her to keep eating. Setting about making her own meal, she began to speak. “Silver, I believe that we may have to leave soon, whether the light returns or not. But… the castle has stores to last days, even with what we can carry.”

The guardswoman swallowed the food, looking uncertain where this was going. “Yes your grace,” she agreed after a moment’s thought.

“I have order for the other guards,” the queen stated calmly as she continued to heat some meats for herself. “Tell them to bring their families, and anyone else they care to invite to stay here while I am away.”

That caused the guard to freeze in mid-bite, staring at the queen openly. The normally icy matriarch smiled at the reaction. “Yes, I know it is a surprise,” she agreed before flipping the meat carefully. It had been a long time since she last cooked, so she needed to remember some of the basics. “But this castle will be able to hold them, the warmth of so many will help, and the stores won’t spoil if others are eating them.”

“A-as you wish your grace,” Silver answered quietly, bowing her head in agreement. “Just the guards and those they let in?”

“Open it to the entire town if you feel it would serve better, use the communication stones to reach them if they still work, do not head out in the dark on your own,” she continued as she poked the meat carefully. Sighing, she set it back on to cook, letting it heat a while longer. “We also need to arrange for the frozen paladin to get back to the south.”

“We do have those goods we need to take south after the light comes back, I will personally ensure that his passage is taken care of your grace,” the silver eyed warrior agreed as she watched the queen trying to cook, and not doing too terribly at it. It seemed that there was something she was trying to figure out about these new orders, and what was going on with her queen.

She had barred the citizens from entering the castle weeks ago, and it was strange that she was reversing it so glibly. She was also cooking for herself, possibly for the simple fact that her cooks had abandoned her, but she also seemed to be enjoying the process. When she heard her voice, it brought about a new set of surprising words.

“If you are to come with me, we must change how you refer to me.”

“Your grace?” she asked in uncertainty as she stared at her queen in confusion and a slight touch of horror.

“Exactly, on the road there is no queens and guards, just Silver and her companion. I used to adventure with the name Frost,” she explained with a fond smile on her face as she flipped the meat to listen to it sizzling on the other side. “On the road, call me that please. No true names in the dark.”

“For names hold powers, and the dark takes when the Fae asks.”

The saying was old, and true. Where the Fae might ask for your name, there were creatures in the dark had been able to use a name overhead by the careless to their own ends.

“I will get orders written for the guards soon,” the queen continued with a slight smile as she plated the food. “Is there any that you think would be best in charge? I ask that you give the orders to them directly.”

“As you command,” she agreed as the queen came over. Standing, she held out a chair for her to sit in. Pushing the chair in, she reclaimed her chair at the queen’s gesture and went back to her meal.

“Silver, I do not trust the False Kings to not try and make a move on our lands. So I hope that we can make as fast a trip as possible, do you have any advice to share on how to serve our people?”

The guard nodded and pulled out a scrap piece of paper that she could write on, intent on making a list.


	8. Chapter 8

She was surprised by how quickly the guards had manage to get the people into the castle, all things considered. She was, however, not blind. She could recognize that her subjects were all wary when they entered, and, to her approval and another emotion she refused to acknowledge, the guards seemed intent on keeping themselves between her and the civilians.

The fact that they kept glancing at Amber in her orb was also impossible to miss.

Silver  caught her eye before silently tilting her head towards a secluded area, clearly with some important business to discuss. The crowd parted when she passed as she made her way to the silent guardswoman, closing up behind her as if she were parting water.

“What is the matter?” she asked.

“Which room was the paladin in, Your—Frost?” she asked.

“The guest chamber furthest from the armory,” she replied, “Why do you ask?”

“The chamber is empty, y—Frost,” she answered.

“How is that possible? It’s not like a frozen body could just get up and move on its own.”

“I quite agree,” another voice chimed in, causing the pair to turn towards the voice, only to see the frozen body of the paladin standing firmly at attention, eyes glowing with cold blue light. Beside it, hovering motionlessly, was a faint orange glow that seemed to emit a slight warmth, which continued to speak, “I know not what awakened my body, but it seems that the Lady of Plenty did not want me in there alongside it. Nevertheless, I had told you that my mace was at your command until the wrongs were righted.”

As if taking that statement as a cue, the frozen body raised the mace, only for steam to billow out of its hand, causing the body to drop it.

“Poor fellow,” Sir Honor’s possible-ghost said sympathetically, “Whatever it is that has awakened him clearly is something cold, which is keeping him from using the mace.”

“Hold on a second there,” Silver demanded, “Isn’t he you? I mean, I’m guessing that you’re the Paladin, but that’s your body, so he’s you, isn’t he?”

“For all intents and purposes, I am me,” Sir Honor replied, and the Queen, who was one more Frost was certain that, had he been inside of a body, he would have shrugged his shoulders, “That is just the body I’d previously occupied since birth. If it is the will of Our Lady, then I might inhabit it once more, someday, but, as it currently stands, I am beside myself. I should, however, be able to rectify that.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” Frost pressed.

“Give me a moment…” he replied, before he left the area for a hall, leaving his body behind.

“Can we wrap that head up?” Silver asked, “Looking at it leaves me unnerved.”

“If you think you can, feel free,” Frost replied, not caring about anything other than the fact that the frozen body moving before her had cold light in its eyes and a pale snowflake upon its cheeks. Deciding to check her suspicions, she said, “Kneel down so that Silver can easily cover your head.”

The frozen body did as it was bid, giving Silver the opportunity to wrap its head in some fabric that hid all but the eyes. Frost looked at her left hand and realized that she would need to look into this in one of her tomes at some point in the future. She felt as if she had heard tales of something like this in the past, but she could not recall from where. After some time she heard the sound of plate armor moving towards their location, something that was very uncommon due to the dangers that one clad in such armor faced in the North. The only such armor she was aware of were those of her summons and the empty suits that had been left as one of the few ornamental objects that were not the orbs. Naturally, that was exactly what entered the room. A full suit of plate armor, seeming to be held together by whatever it was that the ghost was made of. The only thing that distinguished it from the rest of the armors in the halls was that it had a ram’s head that had been burned into the metal and the ghost that was clearly in the head, going by the orange glow in the eyeholes of the helm.

Slowly but steadily, the Paladin-possessed armor handed his corpse the sheathed blade that the armor had been holding before the ghost had come along, then slowly picked up the mace, which seemed to cause the armor to move more fluidly, though it still wasn’t as quick as the Paladin had been in the flesh. Taking the shield off of the back of his corpse, he said, “I am ready to help in any way I can. As is he.”

The body did nothing in response, seeming to be waiting for orders. Frost had the feeling that this was going to lead to a headache somewhere down the line. She knew that it was already causing one at the moment.


	9. Chapter 9

Shortly after the first light peeked over the edge of the horizon, the four headed out bundled in furs. Frost took lead, pointing towards the distant mountain range as they cleared the city and made it to the ice fields. At her side, Silver pointedly avoided looking at the necklace bearing Amber. Both of the ladies refused to look at the pair behind them. The living armor and the still thawing paladin were a little unnerving.

After a few miles, they stopped and looked back at the castle, a beacon of light in the dim light of the grey dawn. It was still in the short days, where the light struggled to last hours in the day before disappearing into the star filled nights haunted by creatures of darkness and cold.

By the guidance of the two natives, they made good time. Once they made it to the open fields, the women led to a set of huts hidden in the side of a ice crag. Inside they pulled out a strange contraption, it looked like a sled, but someone had fused a sailboat to it.

“I think we can make Skrim before we lose the light if the wind is with us,” Frost announced as she unfurled the sail, checking it for something, while Silver looked over the rudder at the backside. “Hey Honor, you see that stack of stones? We need to get this ice skimmer over there. Silver can you pilot one of these? I haven’t done it in years.”

“Came in third place the summer before I joined the guards,” Silver commented as she rubbed her gloved hand over the rudder, testing her grip. Sir Honor and his body moved to guide the device over towards the rock, lining the rails on the bottom with grooves at the base of the stack.

Putting the two southerners in the front, Frost pointed to the front runner of the skimmer. “These are footboards, keep your feet either on or below them. If you go in front of us, and get caught, you will flip the entire thing. We’re going to be going fast, so that’s bad. As bad as invading a kingdom and attacking its sovereign ruler unprovoked.”

“Please understand that I was acting under orders of people I was swore to follow,” the suit of armor replied as it positioned itself as instructed. “How fast are we going?”

His body beside him, settled in, and Silver looped a length of rope over their laps and pulled it tight. “You will see,” Frost commented, getting a soft laugh from Silver.

Three minutes later, and they were opening up the sails. One, two, three, and the wind caught and they were off! The ice channeled the into the sails, and they snapped back as the skimmer leaped forward. There was a lot of screaming, claiming they were going to die, and prayers of hope to see their goddess after the psychotic women piloting this vessel crashed and killed them all.

Perhaps the cackling laughter of Frost may have influenced one paladin’s doubts a little bit.

Just a bit.

They got to a slightly slower place, where they were coasting along and Frost rolled the sail up a little bit. “Grab some rations, and eat quickly. We’re in the wind dead area, and will drift for a while.”

“How have you survived this long with this as a form of transit?” Honor asked as the body pulled out some food and eating it.

“Most times we are loaded down with supplies,” Silver commented as she ate with one hand, the other holding the rudder. “Unless it’s the summer races, then it’s all about the speed.”

“The winds are strong in the middle of summer, but still manageable. If we were to get caught in the middle of winter trying to use these things, we’d probably be somewhere around the far side of the ice plains before we could blink.”

Sir Honor somehow managed to give an incredulous look in the suit of armor, glancing between the two slightly unhinged women. Before the body slumped forward in defeat. How… how was this his life?


	10. Chapter 10

When they finally came to a stop from what Sir Honor would have called the most terrible experience of his life, were he asked, Sir Honor’s body had lost the scarf covering its inexpressive head and the armored form of Sir Honor was reattaching the helmet to the rest of the armor.

“Please tell me that we will never have to do that, again,” he asked, before removing the sash on the waist of his armor and handing it to his frozen body, saying, “Cover your face, poor fellow. We don’t want to give anyone a start…”

“Would you prefer a lie, then?” Frost asked as the body did as requested.

“I suspected as much,” he sighed tiredly , “So, where do we moor this madman’s skiff, madam?”

“This would be the place,” an elderly voice spoke up, causing the group to turn to see what looked like a bundle of furs surrounding a curved-over broomstick with a head that had long grey hair and a thick bushy beard, who continued to speak, “They call me Graybeard to avoid unfriendly ears. What would you have me call you?”

“I go by Sir Honor, Master Graybeard,” Sir Honor said, “The gentleman beside me is Sir Fellow, a lifelong companion of mine.”

“Frost,” Frost replied simply.

“Silver,” Silver chimed in.

“You are quite fortunate that I was making my final rounds,” he noted, “Skrim rarely has visitors, particularly not around this time, so I tend to close the mooring station slightly earlier than most shops.”

“And how much will mooring cost?” Frost asked casually.

“For a four-seater? Commonly two silver, but, since the one in the plate armor is a Paladin of Our Lady, I believe that one silver and one copper will be enough.” At those words, the old man parted his beard to reveal a clasp pinned to the outermost bundle of furs, one that bore the sigil of the cornucopia.

In response, Sir Honor held out his hand and the body sluggishly removed the small coin purse he carried and handed it to the armor, who promptly reached into the purse and removed a silver coin and four coppers, before handing it off to Graybeard.

“May the grace of Our Lady be rained upon you for your charity, Master Graybeard,” Honor said with absolute sincerity, “And take these two coins extra as tokens of our gratitude.”

“It is nothing, good sir,” Graybeard said, taking care to tie off their vessel, “Rare is the chance to see a fellow worshiper of Our Lady, and a Paladin in her name, no less.”

“”I’ll admit that I hadn’t thought that I’d find a fellow worshiper here, myself,” Sir Honor replied, “It is a balm to see you, Master Graybeard.”

“Master Graybeard,” Frost inquired, “Who do we speak to so that we can get provisions and rooms before we set out once more.”

“That would be the one we call Mrs. Town,” he replied, gesturing towards the large nearby building with five front entrances that housed the entirety of Skrim, “She built the town building and is the one who organizes how the walls between get set up. Knows everyone and where everything is. Don’t know how she does it, but if anyone could find you rooms to rest in, it’d be her. You’ll know her when you see her. She’ll be the one with the belt covered in tools making sure that there’s no breaches or breaks in the stone. I, however, have some work in my office to attend to. May the Lady of Plenty guard you in this life.”

“And may her warmth and graciousness shine down upon you always,” Sir Honor replied.

When they had parted ways with the old man, Frost said, “I haven’t been to Skrim in some time. It will be interesting…”

“Last I was here, I was participating in the races, Frost,” Silver noted, the name now coming more naturally as she spoke, “I doubt much has changed. Skrim is not quick to change.”


	11. Chapter 11

The view of Skrim was a strange one not used to the ways of the northern villages. Even for one that has grown in the villages, it was a rather strange one. For one thing, it was a single building. Inside a box canyon, set into the furthest wall, there was a single facade of timbers and sheets of metal jutting out slightly from the walls. The windows were small and opened from the inside. There was no light leaking out, but far, far above thin wisps of smoke disappeared into the sky.

Five stories tall, with one set of double doors in the center, and two smaller single doors on either side, it was a large building, but still one singular building. Before they even got into bowshot of the building, the southernmost door opened and two figures stepped out and signalled them to come closer. Drawing close, they were ushered inside a curious pair of doors, with one door immediately opposite the frame of the other.

Getting inside, the door was closed behind them, bolted and sealed with wrought iron locks spread over the inside of the outer door, before it was blocked by a second door that was used to seal it away. And in place of the frosty breeze and endless expanse, they found a warm crackling fire and stern guards, one older than the other.

Their eyes scanned the party, lingering on Frost a moment later before glancing at each other with concern burning in their eyes before the elder cleared his throat. “State your names and purpose of visiting Skrim please.”

The younger guard pulled over a roller desk that allowed him to write in a book with a quill and inkwell set and ready to go.

“Frost, seeking the counsel of the Ancient Sage,” the queen stated as she stepped forward, her voice low so it could barely be heard over the howling winds outside. “I travel with Silver, swordslady. Sir Honor, paladin of the Lady of Plenty, and Sir Fellow, his counterpart. We have come from the Castle by the wind sled. Sir Graybeard has our sled and was paid for it.”

“Thank you Lady Frost, and welcome to Skrim, chasing the dark are we?”

“We aim to get ahead of the dark, for the dark is cold, and the dark is hungry,” she stated with a glance towards Silver and the others.

The younger looked confused, but the elder put a hand on his shoulder and slowly shook his head. “And the dark comes ever closer.”

Frost nodded her head as she was given the book to sign, passing it to the others afterwards. “What news can you give me?”

“None, save you may want to seek out Mrs. Town, she was last seen near the town center,” the elder commented as he scratched his chin. “We’ll spread the news. Winterwolf was my name when I was younger, guess I’ll go by that again.”

“Sir?”

“I’ll explain, but it’s a code you should have been taught in basic.”

“Sorry Sir Winterwolf…”

“Stick with me Pup, I’ll see you through this.” Winterwolf extended his hand, clasping Frost when she offered hers back. “Welcome to Skrim, despite the wall, we’re not as big as you might think.”

“Some of us have been here before,” she responded with a warm smile. “Thank you Winterwolf, be strong.”

“Be swift Frost.”

With that the band was guided towards an interior door and found the true village of Skrim. There was a open plaza inside, flooded with light from high above. Looking up, they found that there were circles of light, to which Frost commented. “Hasn’t changed much, love those at night. You get to see quite the show.”

What else one’d see is that surrounding the plaza was several layers of walls, halls, and doors. But also open windows. Families lingering inside, firelight flickering from inside. “How do they have that without smoke building up?” Sir Honor asked as he looked them over. “And the lights far above…”

“Smoke tunnels going to the outside, often with fissures in the rocks, but the lights above are the real impressive bit. They are reflective metal tubes going to the outer walls, and give daylight from even the most minor amount of sun coming over the horizon,” a new voice stated as they looked around, coming around a corner. A tall woman, with broad shoulders and goggles afixed to her head beamed at the group.

Her vibrant blue eyes shone in mirth and pride as she adjusted the toolbelt on her hip. Her jaw went slack as her eyes fell upon Frost. “By the first frost, as I live and breathe! Frost, is that you?”

“Yes, it’s good to see you again Raz-” she started before the woman all but tackled her in a hug and spun her around. The sound that came from the queen wasn’t exactly what one might consider healthy, something between a wheeze and a groan. As she was spun around, the others caught sight of a pronounced toolbelt over the cold weather gear, and the goggles currently being used as a headband.

“Mrs. Town I presume?”

“That I am lass, but Frost here probably knows me better as Razor,” she stated with a laugh as she lowered the magic user, who staggered a few paces away and seemed to be trying to regain herself. “I took the name Mrs. Town after I built the Town Building.”

“Still not remarried after Blade?” Frost asked softly, her eyes shining with concern and worry.

Mrs. Town fell silent for a moment before further down the way they had been going. “Blade and I had something special Frost, I could never move beyond that. No matter what he said.”


	12. Chapter 12

“It is an honor to meet you, Mrs. Town,” Sir Honor stated with a slight bow, trying to change the subject with the skill of a a mountain trying to thread a needle, a bow which ‘Sir Fellow’ mimicked, “I am humbled by the craftsmanship with which this town was built. How in the names of the Lady did you manage to craft a building large enough to fit an entire village?”

“Trade secret,” she replied with a shrug, “And I feel obligated to tell you that I do not serve your Lady, Paladin of Plenty.”

“Understood,” he replied slowly, “My apologies.”

“I’m surprised to see you traveling with such an out-of-place companion, Frost,” she prompted, practically brushing aside the whole discussion.

“He and his companion seem to be as difficult to be rid of as a broken knife,” she replied, “Sir Honor is what we call the Paladin in full plate armor. Hi companion is called Sir Fellow, and the swordswoman amongst our numbers is Silver.”

“With such a band, I presume that you aren’t just here to say ‘hello.’” Mrs. Town musd, “The swordswoman has the look of a woodswoman about her. Are you chasing the dark, Frost?”

“Just trying to outpace it,” she replied.

“You’ll need provisions and supplies,” Mrs. Town mused slowly, clearly turning the response over in her head “Both of the highest quality. You’ll want to visit with the farms for some non-perishables.”

“The what?” Silver and Sir Honor asked in unison, and even the body had seemed to give a start, albeit at a much slower rate than the others.

Frost, however, let out a slight chuckle before saying, “You know that, when I said that you were the only person stubborn enough to farm in Skrim, I wasn’t issuing a challenge, right?”

“And yet, here we are,” Mrs. Town replied cockily, “You’ve got to let me show you the farms while you’re here, Frost.”

“Sounds good to me. In fact, are you busy right now? We could use a guide… Skrim looks a bit different from what I remember.”

“The legendary Frost, asking for directions in Skrim…” Mrs. Town chuckled, “Who would have thought that such a thing was possible.”

“When did they add the farms?” Silver asked, “Last I was here, we were all convinced that it was a fool’s errand to try to create indoor farms…”

“That was three years ago…” Mrs. Town remarked, “It took a lot of work, but I figured out a way to simulate the rain and not leak into the floors below, which was the harder part. Come on. I’ll take you four there through the service tunnels. It’s much faster.”

So saying, she took an indistinct, yet minutely intricate key and fitted it to what looked exactly like a simple space between two stones in the wall, which promptly gave way, revealing a hidden passageway, lit by what looked like flameless lanterns.

“Built these into the place so that I could get anywhere I was needed without having to move through the crowds. I have the only key, which means that we won’t have to walk around people. Nice, huh?”

“I see you haven’t outgrown your obsession with secret doors,” Frost noted with a smirk.

“I’m sorry. Which one of us built a town building?” she replied, “Build one of your own and then you can talk about how I built mine.”

And with that, they followed her into the tunnels, Sir Honor shutting the door behind them at her behest.

“This feels familiar,” Frost noted, before realization struck her, “These were modeled after the caves!”

“So she does remember!” Mrs. Town replied with a smirk, “They were brilliantly carved. The walls were thick enough to not be knocked down and thin enough that the turns ould be extremely sharp.”

“What caves?” Silver asked, before she had a look of dawning shock bloom across her face, “Wait. You can’t be talking about Winter’s Labyrinth. No one ever gets out of there. The caves twist and turn into so many paths that it’s impossible to navigate. And that’s ignoring the stories of the frost wight at the center.”

“Any shelter in a blizzard,” Frost and Mrs. Town said in unison with a shrug.

“The caves weren’t even that complicated,” Mrs. Town shrugged, “Honestly, I could probably pull up the map I made of the interior if I really wanted to.”

“As for the frost wight,” Frost noted, “It will never again claim an innocent soul, and that is what is important.”

When she said that, she ran her left hand’s thumb along the palm of her right hand, which told Silver all that she needed to know about how the creature was dealt with. She had no doubt that there was a shattered orb with the empty husk of a frost wight beside it. She knew little of magic, but every child knew that a frost wight would die of starvation without heat to sustain its unnatural life.

“At any rate,” Mrs. Town continued, leading them into what looked like some sort of room with pulleys on the top, “When I was designing the Town Building, I knew that I wanted a means of getting from place to place in case of emergency quickly, so I tried to think of anything that would make that possible without taking up too much space. I remembered the caves and here we are.”

She pulled one of two levers, causing the room to rise.

“I’m proud of the lifts,” she noted as they rose past different hallways, “I styled them after the pulley system in the mines and have been installing them practically everywhere. I’m hoping that others will try to make use of them in the long run. A series of counterweights have been set up to be moved by the levers, allowing for the lifts to move. Pull the left for up and the right for down. Lift the lever to stop them at any point.”

With that, they came to a stop at what was obviously the fifth floor of the tunnels.

“Alright,” Mrs. Town said cheerfully, “So, the synthesized rain machines should be offline, so you won’t be able to see those going off, but the machines rely on the heat of the furnaces to melt the collected snow, which is then pumped into the rain reservoirs. We also have modified reflectors that refract the light to give a much broader spread of sunlight. It’s kept going by five families that were originally ice-fishers, if you can believe that. They picked it up like a bear picks up hunting.” She unlocked and opened the hidden door, revealing a brightly-lit farmland that could have been mistaken for a small, pleasant Western Kingdom farming community, save for the stone walls and the lack of fences between farmhouses. “Am I good, or am I good?”


	13. Chapter 13

Hours later, the dark of the night was deep outside of Skrim, but inside fires cast lights out of windows and doorways, while crystals embedded into the walls and ceiling cast tiny sparkling lights gave the illusion of starlight. The southerners had found the lack of wind, the still night air silent save for the sounds of other people, and the extreme darkness combining to drive them to seek their beds early that evening. Silver set about ensuring that their supplies were ready, while Frost took to standing outside their temporary quarters, staring into the darkness above.

“Copper for your thoughts,” Ms. Town commented as she passed over a steaming mug of dark liquid. “It’s known as dark root tea.”

The tea was cupped between two hands, her body curling around the token of warmth as if trying to force it to seep into her body. “Thank you,” she offered before taking a deep drink from the liquid, wincing only slightly at the taste. “By the gods…”

“Yeah, it’s an acquired taste,” she commented as she took a long drink of her own. “So…”

“Gods have their games to play,” she commented as she held up her hand, slowly removing the gloves to show off the spider web of darkness covering the arm, before repeating it to show off the snowflakes on her other hand. “I chose the first one to protect our people.”

“By the ice fields… you never were one for half-measures, were you?”

“Nor were the southern priests,” she agreed while pulling her gloves back on. “They sealed my magic, and…”

Digging into her coat, she pulled out the still form of Amber, turning her so that if she was aware inside the orb she would be able to see the scene now that it was dark, but slowly so she would not be made ill or anything. “A mistake I made is suffering far more than I should have let her.”

“Frost…”

The queen pursed her lips as she stared at the orb, her left hand trembling with barely restrained emotions. “I will free her, I will break this curse I placed on her. This I vowed.”

“You have always danced the line,” her old friend commented as she sipped her drink. “Do you still have the first orb?”

“That creature has not broken free of it, and I… it is safe. No human can reach it,” she assured her, looking towards the north on instinct, her hand pulling the orb on her chain closer to her chest. “If they become free, I believe none shall remain ignorant for long.”

“No… I suppose that’s true,” the builder mused as she took another drink. “And the other arm?”

“New goddess, new deal…”

“Which one?”

“If she has a name, none of my learnings spoke it,” she stated as she set her cup down. “She did not like my former contracts with the webbed one, and offered something else. The terms are loose, and I am limited in what I can do, but I feel that she has our interests in mind far more.”

“Never known you to let limits stop you before.”

That drew a bitter chuckle out of the royal woman. Slowly lowering the orb, she freed her hand to rub her face with her bared hand. “Remember when we were first starting out, and everything was simple?”

“You mean when we could convince ourselves that it was simple?”


	14. Chapter 14

The pair shared a bitter laugh at that, then passed most of the evening reminiscing about times that had, at the time, been simpler than what they had dealt with after those days were gone. In time, it grew late and Mrs. Town had to leave, citing a need to rearrange a wall the next day to accommodate a family that was expecting a newborn baby.

Frost lingered for a while after she left, taking in the view of the synthetic starlight holding Amber gently to give her a good view of the sight.

“I will free you, Amber,” she assured her, “And you will be able to see all of this again, free and uncovered.”

Slowly, she returned inside, just in time to see Silver securing the last of the packs of supplies they had on hand.

“Even if the winds are against us, these should last us ‘til the end of our return this way, thanks to Sr Honor’s condition. If the rabbits aren’t gone and the fish haven’t escaped, we’ll be able to bolster our stocks even more, but that might be too optimistic, so I wouldn’t bank on it…”

“Get some rest, Silver,” she ordered calmly, “We need you rested when we head out. You’re the only other person who knows how to survive when traveling in the cold and dark in this group.”

“Understood, ma’am,” she replied slowly, heading to a cot, upon which she laid down her head, shutting her eyes as she pulled the covers over herself, “Sleep well.”

“You as well…” she responded absently, her mind wandering in a few different directions at once.

She waited until Silver was sleeping to look over her group. Sir Fellow laid upon his cot as if he were a puppet with his strings cut, and Sir Honor’s plate armor was similarly collapsed, with the only sign that he was still in there being the dull orange glow from within the helmet. Silver slept with her hand under her pillow, no doubt clutching a dagger of some sort, a trait that all Northern woodsfolk shared.

These were the people with whom she was traveling, and they were the people with whom she would be placing her trust, as the Dark North was unforgiving and treacherous and ever hungry. If any of the group failed to work with the others once they got close to the Illuminated Peak, it was entirely possible that they would all die, and potentially not even from the creatures that called such a place home. The cold, itself, was an enemy, not only to humans but even to the wights and other such abominations. And then there was what hid within the dark, thriving in its cold emptiness. Wights used guile to attack their prey. What was in the dark was colder and would try to attack any perceived weakness.

They would need to take care out in the cold, as the cold was dark, the cold was hungry, and the cold drew them ever closer.

 


	15. Chapter 15

_ The Cold Is Dark _

Frost starred up into the false night’s sky, watching the distant lights shimmer as she allowed her thoughts to drift. She knew that the cold would always consume the warmth, the way that dark swallows light. This was a fact of life in the North, the light had to be strong to resist the darkness.

She had thought once that she was strong, able to be the defender of her people, and the ruler they needed to guide them in the harsh wilds of the ice fields. They scrapped their livings out of the very ice itself if they had to out here, and the one that was to lead had to scrape the hardest.

She had thought she had be the strength they needed.

Removing her right glove, she looked at the black spider webs covering the arm underneath with pursed lips. Her eyes were hard and sharp as she watched the play of it on the skin. She had long accepted this price for the power to protect her people.

Or so she had thought at the time.

But because of that strength, she had let a darkness creep into her actions, and it began to fester and spread like the dark consuming a flame too weak to stand against it. And she saw how close to being snuffed out she had been. She had been teetering on the precipice, and now she had been given a second chance.

_ The Cold Is Hungry _

In letting the dark into herself, she had allowed a cold calculation to take over her actions, and it continued to consume her life. She had been oblivious, the gradual loss of control over her powers, with their seductive enthralling control of others constantly whispering into her ears.

She never noticed when that same whisper told her to ignore the removal of her own warmth, or the icy fingers gripping her heart.

And like a flame at the end of its life, she had been so close to being consumed by the dark and cold that she almost welcomed it with open arms.

“The Cold Draws Ever Closer,” she mused darkly as she closed her fist, her eyes lingered as the strands of the webbing stretched and played out over her skin. Was she even worthy of being the queen anymore? “Amber, I wish I could listen to your singing while you work once again. I miss it.”

“That saying of yours in incomplete child,” a soft voice whispered in her ear, causing her to whip around, and find nothing there. On edge, she slipped her glove on and gripped the hilt of her weapon. “Do not fear me child, our purposes march in step.”

“To which god’s attention have I been brought before now?”

“You do have a rather curious propensity towards daring the focus of the divine, even though you may not honor us,” the voice stated again as a spectral form emerged from the air, open hands held before her in a greeting of peace. “Against the spinner of the liar’s web I work with your other patron.”

She frowned at the evasion of her question, motioning for the goddess to sit down next to her. She looked her over with a mild curiosity, trying to divine some sense of what being she was working with.

Flowing green hair with leaves strewn throughout, warm chestnut eyes shining with power under their calm surface. The leathers she wore were plain, and mostly unadorned save for tiny ram heads on the hemlines. Her feet were covered in open sandals, the simple ones of a farmer to work the lands in summer far, FAR to the south, and her earthen skin looked worn and weather beaten.

A sneaking suspicion of who this was began tickling at the back depths of her mind, but she couldn’t pinpoint it.

“I believe I know what you are thinking, and yes, I am. But I have no request of you child, I merely wished to know you better, if you will grant me this dream,” she offered, taking up the seat and relaxing as plant life began sprouting up around her feet and lingering there. 

Despite herself, Frost found the news that she was sleeping to perhaps be more comforting than it should. Letting out a grumble, she leaned back. “So, what would you know?”

“I want to hear the rest of the saying,” the god stated plainly as she pointed towards the farms they could just barely see. “You have the seed of the start of it, but there is more there. What is it?”

“I don’t know, but if I see it while I’m looking for a way to release She in the Gem, I will be sure to tell you,” Frost countered while watching the goddess instead of the various life she continued to bring all around them.

“She will be waiting for the answer too,” the goddess stated as everything faded to black. “You find the answer, and the solution will come soon after.”

And then she was alone in absolute nothingness, her eyes drifting to her chest where normally Amber would rest. It seemed the answers were more daunting than she thought before. But the soft pressure of the orb on her chest was comforting, with a hint of soothing warmth.

She would find the answers, save Amber, and accept any demand the other would command of her.


	16. Chapter 16

When the sunlight had fully illuminated the interior of Skrim once more, Frost was surprised to see Sir Honor sitting up perfectly still, staring ahead in her general direction.

“What's with you?” she asked.

“Something,” he replied, “Though I don't know what.” If he were still inside of his body, he would have probably had a puzzled expression on his face, going by the way that he spoke, “It is nothing wrong, mind you, but it is something.”

“That sounds ominous...” Silver noted, somehow making the large hunting knife she pulled out from under her pillow seem to vanish from her hand as she reattached the burning dagger and the magical sheath, to her side, “What do you think, icicle?”

Sir Fellow did not reply, instead remaining seated, waiting for instructions.

“He's practically dead to the world...” Sir Honor noted, before quickly saying, “No pun intended. At any rate, I feel that I should have asked this earlier, but what should we expect on our journey?”

“Cold and Dark,” Silver stated, “And, if we are very unlucky, the things that prowl the lands of the Dark North.”

“If we are careful,” Frost noted, We should be able to pass through with only a few misadventures. I will not lie and say that we will not be troubled at all, but there will be less trouble if you do as I suggest when I suggest it.“

“Understood... Frost,” Silver said.

“I know nothing of the North, let alone Dark North,” Sir Honor noted, “I shall go with whatever knowledge you possess regarding survival in this place.”

“Stay close when it's dark,” Frost commanded, “The wights will not attack if we have a campfire. The laws of hospitality prevent them from doing so, but there are worse things in the dark than they. You've met with one, Sir Honor. They're territorial, yet less powerful when there is a group of people. They cannot focus with too many minds around.”

“What constitutes as too many?”

“More than one,” Silver explained as Sir Fellow put a large pack upon his back, “It's the way they hunt. They pry into your head for weaknesses, then they focus on them. You can only kill them with cold light, which is only possible if magic users focus on cold, harsh truths.”

“I shall try to keep that in mind at all times,” he said sincerely, “May the Lady of Plenty guard us in our quest.”

Frost did not react to that, opting instead to put on her own pack while Silver did the same. The dream was still in her mind as she tried to puzzle out just what it was that the goddess had wanted from her. Either goddess, if she were to be honest. With Shelloth, she knew what the weaver of shadows and lies wanted, though she had not even begun to realize that she was being manipulated until the second of her divine callers cut the connection to her contract, and the realization did not sink in until the third came to call. The other two, however, she did not truly know where she stood with them. Shelloth loved her games, with corruption as her personal favorite, but she knew little of the goddess that was her opposite and practically nothing of her new patron. The meetings she had with them, no matter how positive they seemed, were still the actions of two goddesses taking an interest in a mortal woman who had just lost her power while desperately saving a life.

She had met Shelloth in a similar, yet distinctly different circumstance. She did not know exactly what it was that they wanted, but she needed to save Amber. She needed to protect her people. Nodding to herself, she strengthened her resolve. If they helped her free Amber and protect her people, she didn't rightly care what it was that they wanted. She would pay any price, solve any riddle they gave her. She had a quest to fulfill.

 


	17. Chapter 17

White.

 

The days were endless fields of white, blinding with the sun burning into their eyes even with the eye covers to mute the colors. Winds that blew and bit to the core of the being through the layers of clothing that covered them. A thin cord tethered the group together as the open field skimmer glided over the ice fields.

Without the guided paths, the skimmer had to make its own into the unbroken frozen lands beyond Skrim. The only goal the group had was a solitary mountain far in the distance that grew steadily larger while the sun tried to steal their sight.

The white of the day was not nearly as horrible as what happened after the few scant hours of the sun being in the sky.

 

Black.

 

The darkness surrounding them was not complete, the moon was out and the stars full. But the clearness also lead to any warmth granted by the sunlight to fade away just as fast as the light fleeing the lands. The group would huddle on the skimmer, the nest of blankets and wooden sides holding the cold at bay with the heat from the two women that stayed in there as much as possible. The cold suit of armor, and the frosty body of the paladin were partitioned off in their own section by the luggage since they just sucked up the heat in the area.

The only thing that breaks the monotony out of the endless day and night, is the distant mountains drawing near, the warmth of bodies held together by closeness, and the running commentary on their meals.

“Meat, really fatty meat,” the voice of the paladin droned out from his armor, watching his body eat the food that had been prepared for it without much more than automation as it went through the actions of feeding the body.

Silver and Frost rolled their eyes, apparently the Southerns didn’t know a good slab of meat when they had one. All about cutting off, trimming they called it, the fat from the meat. “Yeah, we finished the eggs three days ago.”

Frost shook the little cup of coals, getting them to glow a little brighter as the paladin commented on how horrible this was going to be for his muscles and such. “If you don’t like it, have the body cut off the blubber, we’ll turn it into cooking melt.”

“Into what now?”

“Cooking melt,” Silver repeated with a touch of irritation in her voice. “Fat like that burns nicely, and we can use it to cook with. Though you’re wasting some of the best tasting part of the creature by being picking.”

Sir Honor looked towards his who just kept eating at the same slow and steady pace. It didn’t seem to care either way if it was there or not. And he could recover from what the fat would do to his body when he was in lands that had days longer than six hours long.

And thus the meal would continue passing, a complaint about the lack of green vegetables or fruits being the only addition. Since there was very little growing lands, those were the harshest rationed food item.

They would sleep fitfully in shifts, two sitting up and keeping watch, while the other two would get the sleep they could. Frost and took the shift with Sir Fellow, while Silver and Sir Honor took the other shift. There was a brief period where both sets were awake, but for the most part it meant that one of each nest was awake. The pilots to one side, while the other could keep a closer eye for anything around them.

But they did make good time, and professionalism was enough to keep morale from scrapping the last dredges of the barrel.

But that didn’t mean they didn’t claw at their last nerves sometimes.


	18. Chapter 18

_Clank._

_Clank_

_Clank._

_Clank._

“Sir Honor, could you please pull yourself together?” Silver snapped.

“Oh, yes, obviously blame me for that blasted noise,” he replied sharply.

“No one else is in steel armor and there shouldn't be anyone for miles.”

“Quiet, both of you,” Frost whispered flatly, “Listen.”

“...And the stars burned bright

_Clank_

Ev'ry single night

_Clank_

So bright I could hardly see!

_Clank_

Go north my dear son,

_Clank_

The Gambler did say

_Clank_

Where the skies never glow

_Clank_

And the sand's far away.

_Clank_

And you'll dig to the depths

_Clank_

'Til you give one last breath

_Clank_

But you'll finally sleep peacefully.

Oh!”

The singing and the clanking stopped abruptly, followed by the sound of shuffling in the snow from around a hill of of it.

“The wights can't talk to themselves, and those which will not be named do not share territory. If you are real, speak freely and may the Great Unknowable offer you the protection of the cold light.”

They all drew their weapons just in case, only to see a man limping with what looked like a cross between a pickaxe and a staff. A gloved hand held the staff, leading up to a bulky white hooded cloak and a bushy brown beard with flecks of white that were indistinguishable between the hair and the snow around it. Goggles with black lenses were over his eyes and he held out a hand with a lantern that glowed with a blue light as he said, “Come know me better! You may call me Pick.”

“Why are you alone this far out, Master Pick?” Sir Honor asked.

“And how did you get this far alone?” Silver pressed.

“This hill is my home,” Pick said, “Though it is not always here.”

“And how long have you lived here, Master Pick?” Frost asked slowly.

“Now that is a prudent question,” he smiled. Or at least, it looked like he smiled, going by the shifting of his beard, though it was clearly not a cheerful smile. “I have been here for a long, long time, Lady Frost.”

“We did not say our names,” Sir Honor noted.

“Obviously not,” she said, “He is better known as Blind Pick of the Wandering Hill.”

“ _Blind Pick's Hill roves ever on. Always stopping, never long. Cold light lantern for his eye. Seeks his grave so he can die,_ ” Silver recited distantly.

“That would be I, Dame Silver,” Pick agreed, “I would offer you all shelter within my dwelling but I'm sure you know the tale. Well, save for you, Sir Honor. Suffice it to say, I cannot rest, and my hill, in which I dwell, is not designed to aid any soul. I can, however, offer words of warning. The wights grow restless some days travel from here. Be wary.”

“What was that song you were singing?” Sir Honor asked cautiously.

“'I'll Make My Home In The Frozen North,'” he replied, “It was a beloved song in my youth, but that was a long time ago. I was not finished with my warnings, however.”

“That bodes ill,” Frost noted.

“Indeed,” he agreed before he began to dig once again, the lantern suddenly hovering beside his head as it focused on the ground he ripped through as if I were nothing, “To Sir Honor, recall what you are at all times. Do not for an instant forget either yourself or your current state. Words are dangerous. To Dame Silver, recall your knives when the time comes. To Sir Fellow, remember yourself. For Lady Frost, I've important words, words that only she can hear.”

His lantern turned towards her, and the cold blue light focused upon her and she could har is voice in her mind.

_Lady Frost. Firstly, you were given gifts befitting a Champion. You will need hem soon. Secondly, know that you would do well to remember that the path you are traveling is one that is fraught with peril. Take care and travel quickly. Finally, there is one more thing that you must know, and this is the most concerning of all. There is a crack forming in the first orb._

As she stiffened at that final declaration, the lantern turned away from her and back to where he was digging.

“Travel fast, my friends, and travel far,” he said, “The dark is cold and the dark is hungry. And the dark is coming closer. The cold is dark and the cold is hungry, and you all shall know the rest.”

He began digging at a faster pace before slamming his pick into the snow once more.

“The ice that's black

_Clank_

We trust it not

_Clank_

It's full of cracks and webs

_Clank_

False promises

_Clank_

It draws you close

_Clank_

To drag you to its depths.”

_Clank_

With that, he continued to dig once more as both he and the hill faded away, his words remaining with the group even as they once more set off.

 


	19. Chapter 19

“Could you tell me what by the last frost THAT was about?” Silver asked, vaguely indicating where the hill had been not ten minutes before. “That was no- There is not possible way that cou- Frost, please tell me that was not who I think it is.”

“You said the rhyme yourself Silver, you know the truth,” Frost countered as they made their best pace away from the encounter with something far older than the mountains, yet born anew with each breath of wind. “I will not speak false about that.”

“I swear, I remember when I was a guard,” Silver muttered as she lashed the sail taut once more, “I made sure things were safe, and didn’t deal with Eldritch Beings beyond reckoning. Do you remember that Frost?”

Sir Fellow motioned for them to look towards the mountain in the distance, cutting them off from their argument. Sir Honor joined in looking, and muttered an oath under his breath. “Frost, Silver, the mountain we are heading towards. Does it usually spew smoke and I have just not noticed?”

Silver turned to look with a curious, confused scrunching of her face, but it was the open horror on Frost’s face that told the greatest of tales. She stood from the nest of furs and blankets, bracing herself against the mast of the skimmer as her eyes scanned the horizon for something. Her breath was barely there, and when she did force it, shuddering was about the only way to describe it. “We have to move faster.”

“You cannot move the wind Frost,” Silver countered as she tried to coax a little more speed out of the sails. There wasn’t much any of them could do, but press on as fast as possible. “At the pace we set, I would say another day.”

“Lady Frost, an explanation if you please?” Sir Honor pressed as the skimmer made a little more speed, barely noticeable to most, but doing what it could.

The queen paused and sighed as she settled back into the next, wrapping herself and Silver back up in an effort to keep the heat in, though she knew part of the chill came from the pit of ice forming in her stomach. She would have to explain this, somehow.

“Long ago, the sages upon the mountain learned many great and terrible things, things that lead to some very dark times,” Frost spoke as if waking from a dream, dredging up the memories from somewhere she would prefer not to visit. “As tales of old often told, they dug too deep in their mysteries and searching, and brought forth things we do not fully understand. In this folly came the wrights and wraiths, cursed into the darkness, never to know pure light again.”

“Creatures and beings of ice and snow flowed through, but one reigned over them all,” Silver chimed in, remembering the tale from her youth as well. Eyes widening as she turned to look at the mountain again. “A creature so cold that the very air around it smoked like a heatless fire.”

“The Frozen Fire, it was called, and it would burn away skin with a touch, would turn fires into distant memories, and drain a man’s courage twice as fast,” Frost continued as she sunk into the furs. “In all of history, there is only one name known to attribute to it.”

Sir honor turned his spectral head towards Frost, and then Silver, before finally looking at his own body, that simply shrugged in response. “Do I dare ask what that name is?”

“The Cold is dark, the Cold is hungry. The Cold draws ever closer,” Frost stated softly as she looked at her once powerful right arm solemnly. “The Cold is the name it was given, and many tales of it abound. Many lives were lost to seal it away, and it was told that one would be able to walk the frozen flames of their breath, and drive the Cold from these land once and for all.”

“By the dying light Frost, tell me that we are no-”

“I will tell you no lies, so please ask not of that with me Silver. I beg you, do not ask that of me,” Frost cut in, her eyes wide and shaking as she looked up at the smoking mountain once more. “I pray that there is another explanation, lest the knowledge of the Ancient Sage be lost.”

“Suddenly, regret is a physical thing to me,” Sir Honor stated as they continued drawing closer.


	20. Chapter 20

“So...” Sir Honor asked, clearly trying to keep his mind off of frozen flames and dark magic that they continued on towards, “What is the legend regarding Master Pick? What exactly is he digging for?”

“His death,” Silver replied, “You really don't want to know the story behind the rhyme.”

“I see...” he said, though it was apparent to all that he did not see.

“Words are even more important in the North than they are elsewhere,” Frost explained “There are things that wait for questions, be they gods or monsters. The monsters cheat. The gods? They give what is requested, which is sometimes cruel and sometimes kind.”

“But... why?” he asked.

“I never bother to ask,” she replied, “I don't think I'd like the answer. And I highly doubt you would be pleased by it either.”

“Gran believed that they meant well, in their ways, but they had their own ideas of what we deserved,” Silver noted, “Personally, I don't know what to think, nor do I care to. They don't bother with me, and I try to not ask them for anything.”

“The core issue,” Frost stated, “Is that we'll ask too much and they'll find their ways to enjoy it.”

Sir Honor twitched, as if he were going to argue the point before Sir Fellow's face-concealing sash caught his eye.

“Am I seeing things, or did the wind we've been following pick up?” he asked, “And is there a reason why I feel that this is not a good change?”

“It's entirely possible that this is a good thing,” Silver remarked in the exact same tone one gave when they were trying to trick themselves into believing that the sound they heard outside of their door was not a monster of some sort.

“That does not sound very reassuring.”

“Would you rather we tell you all the terrible things it could be, or would you rather we say that it's fine and work on the safety measures that would keep you safe from an enemy that you don't know?” Frost asked plainly. When he didn't respond, she turned to Silver and asked, “Do you have a striker on hand?”

“I do, Frost,” she agreed.

“Good. Now, I'm going to pass you a fullbait. I want you to set it so it veers left.”

“Understood, Frost,” she said as Frost passed her what some would describe as a toy sled that had a candle made of blubber on the top and some strange candle-like device between the runners, “Honor, brace yourself, We're about to move.”

With that, she took out her striker and lit the candle, which caused the wick to burn with a bright flame before she lit the wick on the strange candle and waited three seconds before she placed the small sled on the ground, angled towards the left. Once she released it, the toy sled blasted off into the distance, whistling even as their own sled made a sudden shift towards the right, moving them closer to the mountain even as the wind softened to an extent. In the distance, faint childish voices could be heard singing or crying as they trailed behind the fullbait.

“The wights are moving,” Frost noted, “They never get this close to the forest.”

“Forest?” Sir Honor asked, “What forest?”

“That forest,” Silver noted dryly, gesturing towards what had previously looked like a cliff until they got close enough for it to become apparent that it was a series of ancient trees that were packed unimaginably close to one another, “The wights never go here, according to the tales.”

In the distance that was not quite as vast as it was before, the smoke was still visible upon the mountain.

 


	21. Chapter 21

The Forest.

  
Known by many names, The Forest was a strange oddity in the Frozen Wastes. Being found on a place where creatures of ice walked, and things in the dark stalked the living regularly, that is perhaps a statement that would cause a minor bit of concern.  
First, despite the cold, the trees were living. They grew and stood against the winds, but they were about the only thing that grew in these harsh lands. These trees were known as the Frostwood Trees, and even cut down, they would emit a chill that creeped past any attempts to ward it off. It was rather popular in the deep south and other areas where it was hot all the time.

If it didn’t take powerful tools and hours of work to cut even the thinnest branches, it might be a nice trade for them to consider. There was one other thing that many did not know about.

The Forest was alive, in a way that many other forests are not.

“Hello again Ancient Ones,” Frost stated as she looked up at the towering pillar before her. There was a hint of timidness that had the others on edge. “I come to walk these lands once more, and request the price before we enter.”

The others watched as the forest seemed to breath for a moment, ancient wood groaning as the branches rattled in a breeze that for once had gone. Then a branch came down, and pointed directly at Sir Fellow as four seeds appeared floating in the air before the reanimated body. After a moment, the hands raised up, and carefully took the seeds, two in each hand. Frost began to climb up the dead hands, before he put them into a pouch without seeming to notice the chill.

Tilting his head to the side, he seemed to listen for a moment, before clapping a closed fist to his chest and bowing deeply in a salute that had Silver eying him in surprise. Sir Fellow turned to Frost and indicated what had been said.

He, and any that choose to journey with him, are to take these adventurous seedlings to the Ice Spires, where the fallen castle of the ancients hides, and in each of the turrets, he is to plant one seed each. He was chosen, because of what he is, and the way the cold is naught but a memory to him.

At the end, Frost figured that either the headache she had was because he was a psychic entity, or the charades he performed were just that painful to look at. Either way, she knew that he had his own mission, and nodded. “If you choose to leave, I will not stop you. But I cannot be swayed from my path, and I cannot promise to be able to join you after its end, for I must see to my people. If it is in my power, I will aide you.”

Sir Fellow did not seem to react to that, beyond saluting her again.

While this occurred, The Forest did something that forests as ancient as these should not do.

The trees shifted.

One moment, the party was on the outside of the forest, waiting for passage in, the next they were engulfed inside its dense underbrush, with nothing but trees surrounding them. A tiny branch waggled at the edge of their vision, drawing their attention to a small path winding deeper into the forest. “Do not harm the wood, or any creature, found here,” Frost ordered as she began leading the band towards the path, a sneaking suspicion as to where it might lead filling her heart with dread.

The Forest held many secrets, and one such that kept the wights at bay could be where The Forest was leading them now. Despite the chill that seeped off each tree, and the ice forming on the pack Sir Fellow carried the seeds in, it was a little warmer now that they were out of the wind.  
The one thing that kept them all on alert however, was the fact that despite the setting light outside The Forest, inside was clear as midday that would never pierce the branches above them.

They continued on, passing through the woods as fast as they dared, lest they break a low hanging branch or crush a root under booted feet. Swift time was had, and it was only when exhaustion began seeping in that they realized there was no passage of time here. With a constant light, it was always bright, always steady, and the only thing keeping them from worrying about getting lost was the fact that the trees were constantly different, and always guiding them towards something in a mostly straight path.

Then they heard it, faint at first, like slippered feet gliding along the ice. A swift, whispered brushing that caught at the edges of hearing, before fading away. Then another, and another, until it was all around them. The brushing noise of dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of fabric on various surfaces.  
Then they saw them, tiny little motes of light within the daylight, shimmering refractions of crystalline bodies watching them from the branches. Frost bats were native to The Forest, and despite looking like they were crystals given the shape of winged rodents, were one to touch them, they would find them surprisingly soft and squishy.

They would also find the razor sharp fangs and claws sinking into their hands.

These were curious little creatures, and the Southerners relaxed on seeing them, until they noticed that their native counterparts were stiffening and going back to back.

“Company, company children mine,” a melodious voice rang out through the endless Forest, yet sounding as though it was right behind each ear. “Guide them children, guide them well. Bring them to me, I long to see Frost once more.”

  
The oath that escaped Frost’s mouth probably was a bit more telling of how this was about to go.


	22. Chapter 22

“Now, now, Frost,” the voice said, “There's no need to be rude,” the voice noted, “The forest is sacred. Or profane, if you prefer. You know that you need not fear the wights when we are involved, however.”

“Frost...” Silver began slowly, “Is that...?”

“All questions have answers, young Silver,” the voice interrupted, “While curiosity is valuable, bear in mind that there are answers that you do not wish to have, and a question asked is a question that seeks an answer.”

When Silver fell silent at that, Sir Honor asked, “Lady Frost, what are we going to do?”

“Follow the bats,” she said tiredly, “Don't ask any questions whatsoever once we get there until we part ways with her.”

The group traveled in their own distinct silences as Sir Fellow pulled the sled behind them. The frost bats guided them through the forest. There were no distant sounds and all that could be heard was the sled, their footsteps, and the sounds of the frost bats.

Eventually, they reached a clearing, in which flakes of snow fell, and the occasional sound of a child singing could be distantly heard from above, but something seemed to repel them.

“It has been some time, has it not, Frost?” said a woman who seemed fully at ease as she crouched upon a stump. She wore a pair of warm pants and boots, all in white, and her coat was bulky, with a hood pulled up to hide her face in its fur-lined shadows. “I see that a good deal seems to have changed.”

“I have no business with you,” Frost replied plainly.

“Clearly,” the woman replied, not rising from her stump, “And yet, here you are.” One of the children's voices grew louder, despite there being no sign of the source getting closer. The woman snapped her fingers and a few frost bats broke from the group and flew in the direction of the sound. After a brief moment, there was no sound but that of the frost bats. “Filthy bastardizations,” she murmured irritably, “The work of unworthy fools. At any rate, you made it quite clear that you do not wish to have anything to do with me at the moment. This is simply a social visit.”

“You seem almost contented with that,” she said carefully.

“Time is not a luxury to care for,” the woman replied, “You could decide otherwise later.”

“I doubt that,” Frost replied with a glare.

“There's that spirit,” the woman laughed, “It is what made you so interesting. As I said, though, this is a social visit.”

“And its purpose?” she pressed.

“Cutting to the chase, I see. The purpose is to tell you that some spells only last so long, particularly haphazard spells with no source to power them that were crafted while one was in a panic. Time may be running short on either your chosen task or the remnant of your past. Time may be faster within the woods, but there is still a distance between here and there, and many a danger beside.”

“And why are you telling me this?” she asked, “I doubt that you have altruistic reasons for it.”

“You wound me, Frost,” she said, “I simply came to convey news. What you do with it is not my concern. Unless you wish for it to concern me. Mine is the immediate path to what you seek, after all.”

That final sentence was punctuated with a black-gloved right hand being extended to take. The entire clearing was silent for a full minute before the woman lowered her hand.

“Very well,” the woman said, as the frost bats grew more agitated, “I will wait for you to ask. You know where to look. You need only ask and you shall receive.” The woman laughed elegantly as the frost bats suddenly lunged at her from the trees, encircling her in crystalline lights before they dispersed, leaving no sign of the woman to be found.

“Was that...?” Silver began, only for Frost to hold up a hand to silence her.

“Don't ask questions that you really don't like the answer to,” Frost noted, “Especially if you already know the answer. Saying a name like that one in a place like this is tantamount to a summons.”

“It clawed at my soul,” Sir Honor offered, “Trying to find purchase where it could so it could rip me asunder. I had to touch my mace to clear my head. I believe that we all know what that was. I had never imagined that the fiend could sound so civil.”

“How do you suppose she weaves her webs?” Frost asked dryly, “Would you enter a trap that has a sign saying that it was a trap? She comes as a friend to draw you in, offering what you need most. Civility is just another mask of black ice. Silver, did you feel anything?”

Silver paused in reflection, “No, Frost. Nothing but the chill in the air.”

“I see...” Frost murmured, “Let's keep moving. We have places to be.”

If she unconsciously reached for Amber in her orb, the others said nothing. From Amber, herself, she felt waves of comfort and confidence. They would succeed There was no other choice.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Nearly a mile through the trees later, as the moonlight began to peek through the trunks ahead reflected off the ice and snow, and the familiar bite of the wind began nipping at their skin. “Bedeviled chill,” Sir Honor muttered darkly as he shifted a little in the suit.

The two Northerners shared a look that summed up as ‘more right than he knows,’ and pressed on, pulling their cloaks tighter over their shoulders.

“We will have more of it soon, but the wights are behind us,” Silver commented as they made it to the edge of the forest, and saw an open run to the base of the mountain still spilling out the stead plume of smoke. “I do not trust this…”

“You are smarter than I was back when I was last here,” Frost commented as she searched the mountain with open fear on her face. Her hand cupped around Amber’s prison protectively. Swallowing the lump forming in her chest, she pointed to a building in the shadow of the mountain with lights surrounding it. “That is our goal. I do not trust the open at night, but I also do not know if we can trust camping so close to… Her…”

Looking at her right arm, she could almost swear that the spider web design of the corruption twisted before her eyes as if to inform her that her suspicions had weight. Silver pursed her lips behind her scarf, eyes splitting time between her queen and the mountain. It was then that something came bolting from the sky.

Silent and flowing with serpentine grace, the creature landed on the field and spread its massive white wings. “Is that a dragon to challenge our quest so close to the goal?”

“Look again, no forelimbs, that is a Frost Wyvern…” Frost commented as she tried to pull behind a tree. “Give those little Frost Bats a few decades, and dedicated sorcerers, and you get some of these.”

“Some?” Sir Honor grumped as the rest of them hid from the beast. “You mean that someone made more of them?”

Frost grunted as she pulled out her axe, looking at the wyvern with a deepening frown. “Those too smart for their own good dare where others with more common sense than brains might hesitate. Anyone have any experience facing winged beasties like this?”

The look she got from a faceless suit of armor, and a guard turned adventurer, was enough to cripple the small burning embers of hope in her chest, only for a tap on her shoulder burst it back to life like a phoenix. Turning to look at Sir Fellow, the possessed Paladin’s body bowed his head and gave her the same salute he had made back at the other side of the forest. “By your guidance we will challenge this one. Our goal is to make it to the sages’ outpost, not to kill this one.”

The possessed body bowed its head again, before slipping his old, worn sword out of its sheath. Pointing the blade to a small rise a few meters away, he motioned for Silver to go there, and that Frost should join her. Putting his open hand on Sir Honor’s shoulder, he motioned that the two of them would take the front.

After a pause, he turned to Silver and made a motion of something zooming away. It took Frost a moment before even she recognized the motion, let alone the others that weren’t as quick to know his mannerisms. “A decoy, do you have a decoy left Silver?”

Silver blinked as she tried to resolve the shift in logic with what they had been doing. Shaking her head swiftly, she slung off her pack and dug around inside for a moment before pulling out three more miniature sleds. Pulling the metal caps off the wick holder, she set them down and looked up at the wyvern. “Do you think it will work?”

The group at the huge beast that was snarling at the forest hungrily.

“Do you have any better ideas?” Frost asked as Sir Fellow points out where the devices should be going towards. Silver made the adjustments to the rudders to get them going in the right direction, and hoped for the best. 

Sir Fellow began to diagram what was the basics of the plan for this. The decoys would be sent into the distance, and hopefully the wyvern would go after them. They were simpler beasts than dragons, and with any luck, the creature would chase the light and flashy decoys. There range would take it a fair distance away if it worked.

Then the others would make a run for it going away from where the decoys were heading after a minute or so.

Fellow and Honor would be the vanguard to ensure that Frost made it, and then Silver would serve as her escort if the other two had to join the wyvern in a fight. If Silver could find a good point, she and Frost would set up a support position to cover the other two to make the rest of the run.

There was only so much one could plan for, when dealing with a beast so alien from the human mind as the Frost Wyvern.

Part of it must be ‘Hope for the Best.’


	24. Chapter 24

Silver took out her striker and lined up the three fullbaits. One by one, she lit the candles atop each fullbait, before quickly and carefully lighting their rockets, sending them off towards the right. As they all head their breath, the Frost Wyvern let out a sound that sounded like a horrific cross between a serpentine hiss and a loud, high-pitched shriek before it began to amble after the decoys.

One minute passed.

The beast seemed to still be trailing after the fullbait, clawing its way across the snow-covered ground as it tried to keep up with the small vessels.

Two minutes passed.

It continued along after the fullbait and they proceeded to make their move. The frozen body and the haunted armor stepped out, taking care to face the direction in which the wyvern had gone to ensure that it was not coming back as Frost and Silver made their way to the mountain.

Then, an even louder screeching filled the air while the sound of thousands of fragments of shattered glass scraping against one another was clearly heard. The Frost Wyvern had taken flight, and it was headed straight for them. As Frost and Silver barely made it to the safety of the Hidden Path, Sir Honor raised his mace above his head and moved way from the path before he began to pray.

“Our Lady, Lady of Plenty, be our shield and guard us with your light!” he shouted, causing the head of the mace to glow with a dull orange gleam. “Our Lady, Lady of Plenty, lend us the versatility of your fires and your bounty of warmth!” There seemed to be waves of heat as the head began to glow a brighter orange. “Our Lady, Lady of Plenty, grant us the gift of your blessings, that the fires of life never fade!” The mace was now a shining orange, with flames flicking off of the top as he raced away from the path, away from the forest, “Come and strike me down, you overgrown bastard child of cold and vermin! Come and taste holy flames!”

The Wyvern seemed to focus on him above all other sources of heat as he moved further away, the armor clattering as he waved his mace over his head.

“Go!” he barked out, “Sir Fellow will find you!” He flailed the mace with more speed as he continued, the Wyvern chasing him as he led it away, drawn, perhaps, by either the burning heat of his mace or by the loud clattering and clashing of the pieces of his armor slamming against one another. “Are you too slow, you disgusting abomination?! Are you a Wyvern or are you merely a snake?!”

Frost and Silver continued down the Hidden path silently, the snow obstructing any sight of them as they moved onward. From where they were, they could see Sir Fellow readying himself as the Wyvern began to arc downward towards Sir Honor, whose armor seemed to begin failing him, pieces falling off as he belted out what sounded like a hymn.

“DO YOU KNOW THE NAME OF OUR GREAT LADY?   
LADY OF LIFE AND LIGHT!  
THE LADY OF PLENTY IS WHAT SHE IS CALLED  
AND SHE GUIDES US ALL THROUGH THE FIGHT!

SING, O' GREAT HEROES, SING OF HER NAME!  
O' HAPPY THE MAN WHO HEARS!  
WHY SHOULD WE FEAR TO DIE WHEN SONGS  
AND HONORS ARE FOR THE DEAD TO CLAIM?!”

The wyvern seemed to take greater offense to that as it lunged for him, only to receive a blow from the mace to its face even as Sir Honor's free arm from the couter down fell off of his armor.

“Come now!” Sir Honor shouted as the creature hissed at him, the imprint of a ram visible upon its face even as some of the light had faded from the mace, “Is that enough to make you cower?! Strike me down, beast!”

The rerebrace fell as a clawed wing lunged at him, piercing where a heart would have been, had he a body, getting caught as Sir Fellow stealthily crept up on the beast.

“Dear Frost...” the voice of one that sounded both like child and mother pressed, causing her to turn to see the masked visage of her current patron looking down at her, the shadows on her face offering up an expression that could almost be called concern.

Frost glanced towards Silver, only to see her not moving so much as a millimeter as snowflakes hovered around them. Away from them, Sir Fellow was ramming his sword into the neck of the Frost Wyvern, his hands seeming to be about to twist the blade while more pieces of armor were falling off of Sir Honor, whose light within his helmet was duller than she remembered it to be. The only sign that she was not alone, meanwhile, was the sensation of Amber within her orb, sending waves of comfort and support to her from within.

“Lady of Magic, what do you need of me?” she asked slowly of her patron. She had no doubt that the goddess had something that she felt was of the utmost importance.

“Time is running short, Frost. You must move even more quickly. Remember my gifts, when the time comes. I can offer you nothing else beyond this point but this advice: Trust yourself, trust your love, and trust your companions to see you through this. You will understand what my other sister's words meant soon enough.”

Frost watched the figure before her as the distance between the stars seemed to expand while staying the exact same, until she blinked. In that fraction of a second, her patron had vanished and time had begun anew. They were almost there.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Frost led the way with Silver close behind, their hands on their weapons as they ran through the sheltered path hidden from the rest of the world. The rough stones and dirt path eventually began to transition to paved stones and smooth rock walls. At the end of the path was a simple wooden door, that Frost stopped Silver from touching. “No… that is not for us…”

 

Instead of the wood door, she led her beyond the entrance and into the piled snow while muttering to herself as her eyes searched for some sign that she seemed to know was here. Letting out a growl of frustration she snapped out her left hand, and summoned forth the power she’d been granted from her latest patron. A soft, gentle, warm glow surrounded the hand, as the snow began to rise up from the ground. Waving her hand off to the side, she unveiled a swath of snow, and then kicked a stone that seemed to jut out an extra inch.

 

“Stupid hidden doors and traps…” she snarled as a section of the wall swung inward and revealed a candle lit interior. It was a hall, and once inside, the door closed behind them. A few brushes of their clothes and she felt a strange wave of dizziness wash over her and she had to lean against the wall for support.

 

Silver rushed over to support her as the room swam around her head. “Are you alright Frost?” she asked lowering herself to try and catch a glance at the queen’s face as the other woman clenched her orb around her neck.

 

Taking a deep breath, a loud cracking sound filled the air before she could respond. Without moving her head, she pushed off the wall and pressed on against the pressure building in her head. “The Cold is Awake. The Cold is Dark. The Cold is Hungry. The Cold draws ever closer,” she stated coldly as her legs began pumping, rushing towards the only exit from the room, a tunnel heading into the mountain itself. “The Cold knows no peace, only hunger. The Cold knows no light, only darkness. To the Cold, there is one thing to bring about its fear.”

 

Ice began spreading on the walls, frost coating the ground as the air stole the breath from the lungs of those living. Charging into the Cold was possibly suicidally stupid, but she had to do something. The library with the knowledge she needed was at the end of this hall, and connected to the dungeons housing the barely contained the Cold was several levels down from there. She had to get to the knowledge before the Cold got to it.

 

A patch of ice nearly spent her skidding down the hall out of control, only for Silver to catch her and with a shove sent her sledding along in her boots. A distant part of her mind was reminded of when she was a child, doing much the same on frozen ponds, but instead she focused on getting through the hall as fast as possible.

 

The Cold would not wait for long at this point.


	26. Chapter 26

“It grows colder, still,” Frost murmured as the approached the door to the library. A sense of dread hung in the air, one that could not be ignored, no matter how they tried. They tried to open the doors, only to be stopped by frozen locks.

“We cannot let it end here, Frost!” Silver said determinedly, “Not when we're so close to ending it! There must be another way in!”

“There isn't...” Frost said softly, before her eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to her, “Do you still have the dagger?”

“Dagger?” Silver asked in confusion.

“The one you'd placed in your grandmother's holster,” she pressed.

Reaching to her side, Silver detached the specialized sheath and opened it, causing a burst of heat as she reached in and pulled out a plain blade, which only possessed the features of a ram's head for the pommel and a pair of cornucopias for the crossguard.

“Cut the lock open,” she said, “Between the handles of the door. It's ice magic made by the Cold's bonds breaking. The Cold's magic isn't as strong as a god's magic, though.”

Silver jabbed the blade above the space between the handles and dragged the blade down, feeling only slight resistance as she did so. When her work was done, she pulled on the doors with great force and found they yielded in the way that they had not yielded moments prior.

“Welcome,” a girl's voice that sounded like it was coated in dust greeted, “Many a day has passed since any dared to venture here. I am the Librarian, created by the Great Sage, herself to guard knowledge.”

A few yards from the center of the doorway, there was a column, upon which was perched what looked like a cracked porcelain cherub a worn tunic and leggings upon its body, though the proportions were that of an older child than was commonly used for a cherub. Said cherub turned slowly, mechanical clicks heard as its eyes, shining with cold light, locked onto the pair of them. “I maintain the Library of the Great Sage and know of all within its walls.” Its glowing eyes locked onto Frost as it leaped delicately off of the column, landing with not a sound beyond the ticking emanating from its chest, “You have been here in the past.”

“What are you?” Silver asked unthinkingly.

“I am the Librarian,” the Librarian repeated, offering a mechanical bow, “Once I was loved above all else, but knowledge was given more care than I. Now, I am the Librarian and remain so 'til the end.”

“The end of what? Time, the library, or your existence?”

“The Library's end is my end,” she replied, “And it may be coming soon. Do you feel the Cold's approach? Yet the Dark has not come for it, yet. Curious, is it not? You who have been thrice chosen, what do you seek?”

“I seek to end the curse unfairly laid upon the one I... Upon one whom I cherish more than I cherish myself. I also seek to potentially push back the Cold, if it is in any way possible.”

“You say little and much, Traveler,” she said, “But that of which you speak is within these walls. You need only find it, as you found its opposite once before. Move with haste, however. The Cold is Dark and the Cold is Hungry. And the Dark has yet to come. Where you go, I shall follow, 'til you find what you seek.”

“Why do you seem so calm if you are to die soon, should the worse come to pass?” Silver asked the Librarian as Frost began to scour through the many shelves, trying to find the path that she'd traveled all those years ago, when she had been a young, foolish adventurer, seeking a way to gain more of Shelloth's favor after having struck her desperate bargain.

“I do not fear my end, nor do I relish it,” the Librarian responded, “My end shall simply be when I reach my end and my spring finally stops. Perhaps I shall feel delight then, or perhaps I shall feel fear. There are things I do not know and cannot explain or know until I experience them. In my passing, I may learn why a mother would do such a thing, or I may wonder whether it was worth her while in the grand scheme of things. I, however, am the Librarian and cannot think of such things. My thoughts move ever towards the present and the past at once.”

“I see...” Silver said slowly, “Any luck, Frost?”

“I recognize these shelves...” Frost murmured, before suddenly stopping and turning around, rushing as she headed towards another section of the Library. “This way!"

 


	27. Chapter 27

Frost pressed on through the shelves, pushing forward to find the tome she needed, but in her mind she was several years younger, seeking out a promising lead in their quest while the others were busy with the monks out front granting her the time. A left at the end of the section, three shelves past the windows, and there on the lectern there was the book that started the entire thing.

Shrouded in shadows, the book called to her with haunting whispers from the moment her eyes fell upon it. The words were strange and unintelligible to her, but they drew her in, and brought her hand closer to the book. All she heard was accept or refuse, and promises of wealth and power.

This was when she first met Shelloth, and gained great powers to raise her fledgling kingdom into the great power of the north that it was today, and she hoped that it was now strong enough to stand on its own in this time of troubles.

She had to be fast about this, and she would only have one shot. For the Cold is Dark, the Cold is hungry.

Seeing her breath plume in front of her, she realized that the Cold was growing closer. The steady tramp of doom drawing closer in time with her thundering heart as she approached the book of shadows once again.

It had started with this book, an accursed object that had given her the power to defeat the Cold, by drawing upon the Dark to contain it.

The very Dark that Sir Honor had sealed up in her. The very Dark that gave her the orbs, and allowed the Cold to creep into her mind and body. The very Dark that could not destroy the Cold because they were linked together, two sides of the same coin spinning an endless dance for dominance.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she set aside her worn axe and began the final approach to the book, a desperate plan forming in her mind.

“Frost, that thing is whispering into our minds, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Silver snarled as she turned towards the way they came, her dagger in one hand, sword in the other.

“I know it is not. For the Cold is Awakened,” Frost answered softly as she lifted the crystal sphere holding Amber prison up, kissing it softly as she passed it to the Librarian with a sad smile. “The Cold is Dark.”

The library around them seemed to diminish as shadows emerged and pressed in, closing in around them. Slow, thrumming steps pulsing with power echoed through their very bones as it continued to consume the light from the room. “The Cold is Hungry. The Cold draws ever closer.”

In the midst of the darkness at the far end of the aisle, there was a shape coalescing out of the shadows, taking form. Strangely, not that of a beast, but of a woman strikingly familiar. An echo of Frost approached them, “The Cold knows no peace, only hunger.”

The shadow spoke, thousands of screams echoing around the room in a cacophony of voices, tortured and twisted beyond human levels. “The Cold knows no light, only Darkness.”

“To the Cold, there is only one thing to bring about its fear,” Frost stated as she drew off her gloves and exposed her arms, the right one black as the shadows around it, the spiderwebs lost in the inky darkness. The left was softly gleaming with power as she turned to face the Cold. “The Cold is the Dark, and consumes what it will.”

“Born of the Dark,” the shadow Frost stated as tendrils of shadow lashed out, trying to ensnare Silver who deftly dodges back, slashing a defensive blow with the dagger, causing the Cold to draw back from her. “The Cold is Born of the Dark.”

“Thank you… The Cold is born of the Dark, and thus only knows one fear in its existence,” Frost answered calmly as she summoned up the gift of levitation to lift the book of shadows up, holding it before her. Letting it spin there lazily as she locked eyes with the shadow being.

Icy blue locked with blood crimson, a pale echo of a woman opposite the dark shadows taking her form. “The Dark is here,” the Librarian explained, her own beams of light pushing back tendrils of darkness trying to snare her where she was.

“That’s right,” Frost stated as she held up her right arm, looking at it. “I brought the Dark with me, and it is slowly consuming me. The Dark is hungry too, and as The Cold consumed my mother, so too does it seek to consume me, isn’t that right?”

The screeching chorus of chaos made a sound that could have been a laugh, if a laugh was made by a starving wolf made of thousands of shards of ice in the deepest empty well, echoing endlessly. The laughter continued to grow as the obsidian strands forming its hair lengthened, the body thinned, and grew taller. “You remember then?”

“That I do, and I know now that I am the only one able to defeat you… I only have one regret going into this, but this is a long time coming.”

“Say it, and we begin once more Miranda. Say it, and let the battle be joined once more!” the creature known as Cold jeered as its maw split wide open revealing rows, upon rows, of jet shards.

Frost glanced to the orb the Librarian was holding in her hand and took a deep breath. A beat later, she locked her eyes on her foe, the book of shadows floating to her left. A swirl of shadows cut her off from her allies that were huddling around the warmth of the dagger and the dim light that Amber’s orb seemed to give off.

“Hello Mother, I have come to stop you.”


	28. Chapter 28

“Alone at last, Miranda,” the Cold laughed hysterically, “I must say, I am surprised that it took you this long to visit. And your arms! You’ve been taking too many bargains. It feels magnificent, doesn’t it? All of that power?! Who in their right mind wouldn’t use it?”

“I am not you,” she said focusing on the wall of ice building up behind the remains of her mother.

“And yet, here you are, alone with your gifts that continue to devour you,” the Cold scoffed, “You and I are the same story. You are just a chapter behind.”

“Would you care to test that?” she replied, the snowflakes on her left hand feeling both cold and hot simultaneously.

What followed those words would not have been easy to describe by even the most accomplished of bards. The interior of the shadow surrounding grew without expanding, the very space within it warping beyond what would have been recognizable, ever-shifting while the ground beneath them seemed to spread out and stay the same.

And the Cold lashed out with spears of clear ice. She twisted her right hand in a familiar manner and the book responded in kind, devouring the spears while the webs on her arm became interwoven further, beginning to fill the spaces between itself with webs within webs.

“You see?” the Cold said, “This is how it will be! Even if you best me, seal me away once more, you cannot stop yourself from using your gift.”

 _Only once,_ a voice said in the back of Miranda’s mind, _You need only use the gift to seal once. Isn’t that better than losing this battle when you’re so close to victory._

It was so tempting to just create an orb. She was strong enough. She had the force of will to orb the Cold alone, this time. All she needed to do was push hard enough and the Cold would be sealed, feeding the Dark with naught but her own power to save them all. All she needed to do was say Shelloth’s name and she could bind the Cold. She could do everything she needed to do.

Frost dropped her right hand as the Cold watched her curiously. With considerable effort, she resisted the urge to fight back with the Dark, to simply create a stopgap, and clenched her left hand into a fist, her mind on the two snowflakes upon her hand. A cold light glowed from within the pages of the ancient tome and the book shrieked in pain.

“I am no one’s pawn,” she said flatly, “I will not use the Dark to defeat you.”

“An unwise sentiment,” the Cold mocked, forging a sword of ice in each hand, “If you do not embrace the Dark, you cannot dream of stopping the Cold.”

 _There’s no time to spare,_ the voice continued, _You need to move quickly. Summon the Dark. It’s the only way that you can save her. Don’t you want to save her?_

She did want to save Amber. That was the reason Miranda had taken up this quest. She needed to save the one she… Frost shook her head to block out the voice as she concentrated upon the Cold’s eyes and cast the light spell she had with as much will as she could muster.

The Cold charged at her with its blades, only to hiss in agony, red eyes bleeding black, sludge-like liquid as the ice blades fell to the ground, consumed by the shadows. It blindly lunged for her with clawed hands, only to be deflected by the flat of an axe blade batting them aside with two quick swings before the Cold leaped back just in time to avoid a downward arc.

“So you do have fancy tricks, Miranda,” the Cold laughed, “How unfortunate that they’ll not help you stop me!”

Again, the Cold formed blades, this time shorter as she lunged for Frost once more. Frost, in turn, began to circle , blocking the blades with the flat of her axe the entire time . Then, to the surprise of the Cold, she turned the axe so that the spike was facing the Cold and the blade was facing Frost. As the Cold lunged once more, she used the spike to shatter the ice blades before quickly lowering the axe. As the Cold once again leaped back, she swung upward, managing to slice a leg and strike the jaw with a sickening crack. She pulled the blade quickly as the blood began to let out a cold mist.

“You cannot stop me this way,” the Cold snarled, twitching as a crack spread along its leg, “The Cold is Dark, the Dark is Cold, and both are ever hungry. You will fall. All that you have to decide is whether you will fall with me or fall alone!”

 _If you just embrace the Dark, this will all be finished,_ the voice whispered, _You can stop this, you can save her. You are all alone, and only the Dark can help you. Let the Dark into your heart._

 _ **Do not listen to it, My Queen,**_ A voice she could never mistake for another said, faint, but impossible to ignore. She felt a warmth in her heart as Amber’s voice continued, _**You are better than that. You are smarter. You are stronger. You are not alone.**_

“Those who fought before, I bid you welcome us, should we fall, but let us fight to the dying of the light!” a voice called, muffled, distant, but present in the void surrounding them. As the wound on the Cold’s leg continued to splinter, the voice grew stronger, “Gran, in your name, I offer my will to push back the Dark and stave off the Cold! I offer all that I can give to aid Frost and the Little Maid!”

“Our Lady, Lady of Plenty, show us thy heat and thy light!” a ragged, tinny voice called out, “Upon my mace, I offered my life, offered that I would give my aid until the scales were balanced! Let the last embers of my soul do what they can to aid Frost and the one she seeks to save! May my flames burn long enough to be of use! Keep the gauntlet in your hand, Sir Fellow! We don’t want you to be burned by the mace!”

Pinpricks of light could be seen, flickering orange and constant red and the frozen blue dancing in the corner of her eye.

And amber. A beautiful amber light that she could feel was drawing its strength from her, and yet it was also fueling her. It was a magic she couldn’t explain, but she felt it within her soul.

“This is the Library of the Great Sage,” the Librarian said in her dusty monotone, “And it is defended until its end.”

“What will you do, Miranda?” the Cold mocked, holding itself up with a spear made of ice, “Even if you have others to attack this barrier, you cannot seal me without the Dark!”

“Because the Cold is born of the Dark…” she murmured, causing the Cold’s laughter to stop dead. Frost narrowed her eyes as she returned her axe to where it had originally been resting, “The Cold is Dark, for it can’t stand the Light. The Cold is Hungry, because it cannot create. The Cold draws ever closer because it cannot last.”

Frost concentrated, holding the two marked fingers up to her eye level as she said, “The cold light is the light of truth.” Her eyes lit with cold light that made the light of the librarian look dim, “In the Dark, secrets hide. But the truth reveals all, without pretense, without disguise.”

The Cold flinched, its eyes once again bleeding that dark liquid as Frost pressed on, “The Cold holds no power.” She felt a burning sensation in her right arm, but she ignored it, “It never did. All it does is consume. Without any illusions, it is nothing but a fragment.” She glared at the book, causing it to hiss as the cold light of her eyes bore into it. “I do not need you to bind the Cold,” she said, “And I do not need your words in my head.”

She locked eyes with the Cold, “There is nothing left of my mother within you. Just a shadow of a shadow, hiding within.” The Cold snarled at her, unable to find words to use on her, “Return to the shadows from whence you came.”

Using the levitation magic, she slammed the book into the chest of the Cold, causing both to howl as the Cold shattered, revealing a shadow clawing at the air as it tried to escape, while the Dark was drawn in as well, taking its shadows with it, making the library visible once more as Frost fell to her knees in exhaustion. She felt the cold light leave her eyes as she examined the room and those within.

Silver stood with her blades in hand, eyes watching for any sign of shadows or ice.

Sir Fellow stood, a steel gauntlet firmly in his grasp as it held onto Sir Honor’s still burning mace, while the frozen body’s other hand held a helm that had a dull, orange light flickering within.

The Librarian, meanwhile, picked up the book dutifully in her mechanical way. Idly, Frost’s mind told her that the cover had not been charred before, but she was distracted by a sight she deemed more important.

Beautiful nut brown eyes, eyes alight with love, eyes that she had begun to secretly fear she would never see again. Amber was free. She reached out for her, wishing for nothing more than to take those hands in her own and beg forgiveness from her, but even as she did so, she felt herself fading out of consciousness before she collapsed. Her last conscious thought outside of relief for Amber’s safety, was that she couldn’t see the spider’s web upon her right arm.

“We have much to discuss,” three unmistakable voices chimed in unison in the back of her mind, each sounding self-satisfied. She had no doubt that she would not like the discussion at all.


	29. Chapter 29

“We have much to discuss,” the three voices echoed in the lightless expanse she floated in, drifting along as she realized her everything hurt. It wasn’t a sharp stabbing pain, nor was it the lingering pain of old wounds, no this was the general ache of pain that spoke of over exertion.

Perhaps if she just stayed still, and pretended to be dead, the voices would just get bored and go away. It was a fool’s plan, and not a good one at that, but it was about the only plan she considered worthy of her time. Unfortunately, the voices did not seem to agree with that plan, as one just laughed warmly. “Come now child, rise up and let us talk.”

Slowly opening an eye, she found the sky above her split three ways: one an eye searing empty white, another pitch void, and seemingly surrounding and dividing them was and endless spray of stars in a field of twilight. A few seconds were enough to turn her stomach and make her regret opening her eyes. Forcing her eyes closed she shook her head and willed herself to sit up on the air.

“Be you gods, demons, or other creatures beyond the mortal veil: know that I really hate all of you right now,” she groaned as she tried to get the painful cacophony of light and motion she had woken to.

“And you said that she would only be mad to see you sister,” the familiar discordant harmony of voices brought her attention back to the company around her. “Hello child, we have mu-”

“Much to discuss, yes, I know. I got the message,” she cut in crossly. “You could not have waited just thirty seconds more?”

“Do be honest, would you have stopped at thirty?” a bemused voice asked as a warm comfort spread over her back, easing some of the pain from her head.

The grunt she gave was neither confirmation, nor refusal, just was. “So, am I dead?”

“By rights, you should be,” the voice of the Lady of Magic answered as she took the left hand and touched the two snowflakes there. “You used up so much energy that in that last spell, I was pleasantly surprised to see you standing after the light faded.”

“Yes, yes, we are all so thrilled that our dear little chosen one has won the day, and thwarted my plans. Aren’t we just thrilled with ourselves My Dear?” Shelloth purred with venom dripping from each word. “But know that this is but one plan, I have many more threads to pull. This is only a minor set back.”

“Your Darkness lost, and the Light will always remain ready to drive you back,” the Lady of Plenty snarled in challenge as she left Miranda behind and moved to try and loom over her sister, who attempted to loom back, both of them looking more like petulant children than the powerful goddesses they were supposed to be.

Miranda felt irritation building in her chest, resisting the urge to stand up and try and beat the ever living eternity out of the two of them. That was removed when a sense of wonderment and curiosity spread over her. Turning to her left, she gave the Lady of Magic a dark look. “Forgive them, they are both sides of the same coin, and rather disagreeable towards each other. I must apologize as well, I had not intended to risk your life. Unfortunately, others had designs that forced the time table.”

“Could you stop talking? I really do not care right now,” she explained with a short tone as she watched the two bickering children again. “What are we discussing?”

“You,” the three goddess stated in once, the argument coming to a screeching halt.

“I want nothing to do with any of you three, but if you force me to choose,” Miranda stated calmly as she pointed a finger towards the Lady of Magic. “She has annoyed me the least.”

“Not that child,” the Lady of Plenty stated as she smoothed out her hair and turned to address Miranda properly. “Well, partially that, but no. We must figure out the future of your land, and you have a quest to complete.”

Miranda took a deep breath, and slowly counted to ten mentally before she looked at each of the goddesses in the eyes one by one. “You have forced yourselves into my life, played with me and my people like dolls in a game of house, been vague and o and done untold other harm to this world. I do not owe any of you a quest.”

“Not us, but one much closer to your heart,” the Lady of Magic stated as she summoned a sphere of shifting colors that swirled until they could settle on the image of Amber holding Miranda’s form in her arms. “Do you not acknowledge the debt to her that you owe her?”

“She was the start of all this, and I do not know if I could repay her for what she has done for me. But that is not a matter for you three to concern yourselves over.”

The goddesses shared a look, a rarely executed triple exchange of silent communication, much less performed so flawlessly. Finally the Lady of Plenty spoke. “No, you are right, we are not deities that deal in love… directly,” she explained, stalling a protest from the Lady of Magic, which earned an eye roll from Miranda who was just sick of these three at this point. “Instead, I believe we must discuss something else.”

“We owe you one boon each, to be granted upon your choice to use them,” Shelloth muttered sullenly as she turned away. “No, getting us to leave you be cannot be the request.”

“But beyond that, since you took the least of my gifts and performed such grand feats, I will grant you one thing beyond keeping the powers and a way to learn more at your own choosing.”

“And what is that?” Miranda demanded while glaring directly into the masked face before her.

There was a shuffle of cloth shifting, before a gasp from the two other goddess as a hand cloaked in endless star fields reached up and pushed the mask aside. The head that bore it leaned in and a soft voice whispered into the queen’s ear, causing her eyes to widen.

Once the mask was back in place, and pulled back, the goddess merely nodded. “That was what you thought it to be. Use it with wisdom. But we have much to discuss, and I would rather not have your friends swear vengeance on us.”


	30. Chapter 30

“What exactly am I allowed to ask of you?” she asked.

“A boon,” Shelloth replied.

“One from each of us,” the Lady of Plenty chimed in.

“The gift I presented unto you was not the boon that you are owed,” the Lady of Magic said.

“And there can be no strings attached,” Shelloth said, “At least not to the boon. You could have a gift or a contract, as well...”

“I'll pass on any other offers,” she replied flatly.

“Clever girl,” the Lady of Plenty said in a tone that was more satisfied than Miranda felt she deserved to be.

“Tired girl,” she countered, “Who has had enough of being used.”

“Everyone is used by someone,” Shelloth replied with a shrug, “You know that, Miranda or Frost or Riddle-Solver or what have you.”

Miranda narrowed her eyes at that.

“You are who you are,” Shelloth replied to the unasked question, the coat's hood still hiding her face in shadows as she tilted her head to the side, “You were unbound from your bargain with me.”

“Her taint no longer plagues you,” the Lady of Plenty said, as if that explained everything.

Miranda decided she would press on, rather than question it further. “What are the limitations of your boons?”

“We will not bring back the dead,” the Lady of Plenty said, “Nor shall we remove anything that naturally exists from reality.”

“We will not change a fate that has happened,” Shelloth noted, “The chips all fall where they may. Life and death is the act of picking them up. Punishments and rewards will not be undone or halted.”

“As Shelloth had said, you cannot have us leave you be,” the Lady of Magic said gently.

“What else?” she asked.

“There is no other requirement,” Shelloth said simply, “You simply must make your choices.”

“And how do I know that you won't twist the boon to your own ends?” she demanded.

“You are very cynical,” she replied, seeming pleased by that fact, “We cannot use the boons to our own advantages. You won the game. It is as simple as that.”

“So, what is it that you would ask of us?” the three goddesses asked in unison.

“I request for a boon that the souls trapped within the darkened orbs be freed from the cold and dark.”

“This, we will not fulfill,” the Lady of Plenty said, her voice sounding off as she spoke, “The fates of these people are not ours to control with this boon.”

“Focus on what you can do with the boons,” the Lady of Magic offered.

“Words have power, Miranda,” Shelloth reminded her, having at some point seated herself upon a large block of ice that hadn't existed, moments ago “Bear that in mind, Frost.”

Miranda thought for a moment before she made up her mind. “For the first boon, I request the ability to release those sealed within orbs without my heart, name, body, or soul being bound to any being or spirit.”

“The boon is granted,” Shelloth said, the ice on the block rising to create a back, making the whole thing look like a throne carved from ice, “You may break the seals and release the prisoners, alive and whole, without contract and at your discretion.” If she had a visible face, Miranda had no doubt that she would see a smirk form as Shelloth continued, “But recall there were both just and unjust punishments, and which was which, lest you release someone less deserving...”

Miranda wasn't sure if Shelloth was happy or unhappy with the chosen boon, but felt that she, personally, would not be pleased to find out regardless of which it was.

“What boon do you request next?” the Lady of Magic asked.

Miranda pondered her next decision carefully.

“Was it a punishment?” she asked, turning towards the Lady of Plenty curiously.

“It simply was and has been set ever since Skrim,” she replied, “And it simply will be. The dead are dead, regardless. What happens next is anyone's guess.”

“How viable is the Skrim method of farming?” she asked.

“Surprisingly so,” she replied, “Why do you ask?”

“As the next boon, I request a means of aiding my people, both with Skrim and their farms and those in the mines and those who guard against what hides in the cold and dark,” she said.

Chestnut eyes widened in surprise before the Lady of Plenty said, “The boon is granted. You and those who will aid you in this endeavor will be able to find the means to be industrious in those fields much more quickly than previously expected.”

Shelloth let out a slight laugh from her icy throne and, had she a face, Miranda was certain that her eyes would have been twinkling in amusement at the shock. The Lady of Magic, however, pressed onward, seeming completely at peace and unperturbed.

“What is your final boon?” the Lady of Magic asked, her mask strangely inexpressive, both compared to what she had seen mere moments before and what she was used to seeing.

Miranda was less sure of what she was to do with that than she was with the others. There were multitudes of answers that were suddenly appearing in her mind, as if the knowledge she had gained was presenting questions and possibilities. There was but one choice she had, however. One choice that felt absolutely sure to her, in no small part because she felt it with her mind, her soul, and her heart.

“For my final boon, I would like those who I care for, those under my care, and the one I... the one I may very well love to be protected,” she said.

“This, I will not fulfill,” the Lady of Magic said gently, the angle of her mask showing the slightest hint of a smile, “I do not command the destinies and choices of others. Say what your boon shall be.”

“I...” she began, slowly determining just what she was going to ask, “As my final boon, I request the ability to protect those who I care for, those under my care, and the one I believe I love, in all the ways that I can.”

“The boon is granted,” the Lady of Magic said, her mask visibly grinning as she spoke, “You have chosen well. Beyond what you have learned and what you have been given, I grant unto you the ability to offer what blessings you can in my name. May you go in peace.”

“May you be met with generous souls and be generous in kind,” the Lady of Plenty said.

“And may you live in interesting times and master them,” Shelloth added as they all faded from Miranda's view.

And in the now much warmer Library, Frost, who was Miranda and Frost and all that entailed, opened her eyes to see a Guardswoman, the frozen body of a Paladin, a suit of ancient armor with a cornucopia that had clearly recently been burned into the leather breastplate, a statue of a cherub, and Her, all of whom had circled around her as if in anticipation.

As some began celebrating her rising, her attention was more focused upon her, the one for whom she had gone this distance, had undertaken this quest, the one who was now kneeling beside her. She could not yet find the words or her own voice, quite yet, but she felt her voice force itself to the fore as she murmured her name in a voice so soft that only she could hear.

As Amber embraced her, Miranda let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in the first place.

There was much they needed to discuss, but that was for later. For now, a moment of peace was long overdue for them all.


	31. Chapter 31

The celebration had gone into the night, with warmth and light filling the library as they enjoyed the end of a quest. Mostly that was a good meal of what food was in the building and their meager rations, and water, but it was a celebration, and they made the most of it. However, late into the celebration, Amber looked up and noticed the empty chair at the head of the table, and the door closing heading towards the outside.

Taking a moment to excuse herself, she followed after the faint glow that seemed to linger in the air after the wake of her target. Seeing Queen Miranda, she took up a spot a few paces away and waited, watching her quietly as they stood in the pale light of the moon, the chill not penetrating their layers yet.

“I have wronged you Amber,” Miranda stated into the air, her voice heavy with guilt as she worked her hands against her shirt. “I will not make any excuses for my actions, and will work to correct them.”

“My Queen, I did break the laws, and the punishment was clear.”

“It does not make the law fair or just. No, that is one thing I must do, review the laws and do right by our people,” she continued, lowering her head as she looked down at her hands. “I have the power to free those imprisoned, and have their crimes listed as you may remember.”

“I do My Queen, the book is in your throne room, with their location and crimes, as well as a description of the person in question,” Amber responded, remembering having to dust that particular book more than once in her time as a servant in the castle. “But why do you speak of that at this time?”

“I have been thinking. One that has not been in the orbs cannot know what it is like, and so I would like you to provide input, and you are wise of the ways of the common folk that I have ignored for a while.”

“I know only what any that have lived with them for a short time would My Queen,” she answered softly, her tone suggesting she had suspicions where this was heading. “You should seek out the leaders of the people, listen to their advice.”

“Yes… that is sound advice,” the queen answered with a knowing smile on her lips as she looked to Amber for the first time in their conversation. “I am not making any big plans, but I would like it if you could stay at my side, and my ear will turn towards you when it hears you speak.”

Amber froze as the implication of what that would mean. She, a servant of no social status, serving as the advisor of a sitting monarch? She doubted that there was ever another example of this happening in history. Working her jaw, she took a deep breath and chose her words carefully. “I am not as learned as others may be, and would be honored to aide you in any way I can. But I beg you to give me time to consider this offer before answering My queen.”

That seemed to make the monarch smile and let out a laugh. Nodding her head in a way more akin to a warrior than a queen she took her time replying. “Well said, and granted. You, you will never need to beg anything of me. If it is in my power, I feel I would face down three goddesses to grant it.”

“Again? I had best temper my desires,” Amber attempted to joke seeing the queen relaxing around her. It seemed to have the desired effect as the Queen let out a laugh again, her voice rich and free.

“I request that for now, call me Frost, until I reclaim my throne.”

“Frost, and for me, might I request Thaw?” she asked softly, her eyes watching the surprised expression bloom before recognition set in, and she began to look thoughtful. A smile spread across her lips as she saw the nodding begin. “Thaw, we shall tell the others later. A fitting name for one that ended a frozen heart.”

“Not ended Frost, but hopefully renewed, like the spring coming after the winter.”

“In time, I hope to see that spring bring forth new growth.”

The pair stood there, gazing into the other’s eyes for a moment before turning their heads, faint blushes burning on their cheeks. “We should…”

“Rejoin the others? Sleep before the dawn comes?”

Frost looked to the east and smiled as she pointed towards the first gleaming sliver of light rising. “Too late for that last one Thaw, but I believe we can be excused a slight lie in.”

The soft laughter was music to the queen’s ear, and she knew. She would do anything to ensure she could hear that again.


	32. Chapter 32

And so ended an adventure, as all adventures end. The mission she had set out upon was complete, her love was saved, and the adventure back would later begin. It was the nature of things, and while none of them knew what would come, they knew that more adventures would be in their futures.

The Librarian nodded over the book as she wrote down what she was witnessing. They would leave in time, but for now, they were resting, and when they left, the Library would continue to exist, and she would still defend it. She knew, however, that they would meet again.

Adventurers were an ever-curious lot and adventures always led to the most extraordinary of places, after all.

 


End file.
